It isn't me
by AlFlowerrise
Summary: I like him. I do. And when he tells me that he loves me too, it has to be right. It has to be. How will it go? Contestshipping! May/Drew
1. A Rose

**It isn't me**

_A rose_

_(Maybe I'm not the one you think I am)_

She smirks when she glances at her rose. So beautiful, with soft petals reflecting the beams of her desk-lamp. She twirls the rose around her slender finger. It has a small scent – like an almost unnoticeable cologne. Pulls it closer. Yes – it's something.

Later, she puts it down and thrums with her fingers at the cream-white table. Tucks back her brown hair with her scarf – hard, not a single strand of hair is allowed to play in front of her face. No one. She is sick of it.

She wonders. What'll happen next? What does this book has in store for her? Probably nothing. Life will go on – like a sinus-curve, going up and down, with no changes. She will continue to strike for her Contest-ribbons. As always. That's her goal – and something she loves and desires – of course. She would rather die than giving up her dream.

Like him.

Yeah, they're the same at that aspect.

The same but in the same time so different.

She smiles. It's hard for her to say what precisely she feels for him. But it's easy to state that it is something**. **Something that is so present that she can't deny it. Not anymore. When she gets these roses – (one after each meeting) – she can't help but to feel relived, like butterflies moving in her chest. A bird flapping its wings. First, she thought that he gave her roses to emphasize that he stood over her. But she doesn't think like that now. No, she wants them. Needs them. Because, as long as she gets them, she can string along that he likes her. Of course he doesn't. He finds her annoying. Always spits greedy cues at her. Uses irony like a gamer uses his controller. Maybe he likes her as friends. Or a rival. Something like that. But it'll never be more than that. Never.

She knows that. Understands that. But she still builds up fantasies that have nothing to do with **reality**.

She is impressed by him. Impressed by his skills. Impressed by his cocky attitude and small, suspicious eyes. By his green hair and ironical smiles. It's easy to say that she is impressed by **everything **about him. Maybe it's because of that she understands that he is unreachable.

_Oh_, she thinks, putting her face in her hands. _This is all so dang complicated._

So complicated that she catches herself in her own riddles.

She turns on her laptop. Waiting for an eternity (it feels) for it to start. Next, she clicks on Google Chrome and waiting for her homepage to come up on the screen. Logs in on her Hotmail. Clicks on 'incoming mail'.

One mail.

From him.

She feels her heart beat faster. Sweats are pouring down her face. She licks her lips.

Open.

**From; hey_im_drew_yo**

**To; may_maple**

**Subject; Nothing xP**

**Yo! How r u? You still in Rustboro? How about some coffee tomorrow? At two a clock? **

**/Drew **

She can't help but to unintentional giggle. She blushes when she writes an answer. Duh, she is so darn obvious. And so darn good at creating fairytales that is both ridiculous and exaggerate.

And sad.

And what's wrong with that suspicious tone of his? she wonders, but not too long because the feeling decrease only because it's him. It's sad really, that he has such control over her.

**From; may_maple**

**To; hey_im_drew_yo**

**Subject; RE Nothing xP**

**Hey you! I'm fine. As usual. Looking forward to the next contest. I'm going to kill you there! But yeah, coffee sounds nice. See you then.**

**/May**

Her smile gets more solid. Always. It's always like this. Irony. No time for serious talk. It's like passing a tennis-ball back and forth over the net. No time for thinking. No time for her being May. No. She has to play this role. This role that she (inside) doesn't want.

But she has to. Because if she don't, she will lose him. And she can't bear that.

No.

* * *

Yeah, this is a longer story - (probably around fifteen chapters at the end) mainly about May x Drew. The story starts when May goes back to Rustboro to train at the School to learn more about pokémon and their battle techniques so that she can use them in her contest. But her problem right now isn't her contests. Also, small Ash x Misty will occur in future chapters. As always - yadda yadda - I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes. I don't own any of these characters and reviews are always welcome! I will update as soon as possible! Thank you for reading this! ^-^


	2. Preparations

**This isn't me**

_2: Preparations_

_(I feel like a teenager and oh how I love it)_

Morning is coming eventually – as always. May opens her eyes and stretches her body. Turns her head and looks at the alarm clock on her bedside table. 12:30.

_Crap_, she thinks and rubs her eyes. _I'm going to meet him in one and a half hour!_

Maybe not a big problem. But it is big for her.

She jumps out of her bed – (not making it) and runs straight for the bathroom. Looks in the mirror. It is an exaggeration to state that she is meticulous when it comes to her appearance – but not even she wants to look like a garbage sack when she goes out. At least not with him. Maybe it's ridiculous – (and hyperbole) – but she wants to look good in front of him. She doesn't know why. Her appearance shouldn't change anything – he will always look at her as her rival. Maybe friend. And no matter if she looked like a delicate babe – that wouldn't change.

Or? No. Never.

She walks into the shower. Wash her hair in apple-smelling shampoo. Tucks her head back at the wall and just let the water jets sluice over her body.

_Drew_, she thinks for no apparent reason. _What's this? Why am I so nervous? It's only him…_

But it isn't so easy. That's the worst. That she doesn't know her feelings – doesn't know what to do. And he doesn't help – at all. They just circles around the problem – neither of them want to bring the topic up. But maybe that is for the best. It is risky to talk about this with him – maybe he'll turn around and never look at her again. And she can't have that. She needs him – needs his skills in order to improve her own. She can't strike for her goal alone; she needs someone that pushes her forward, telling her not to give up. No matter how many ups and downs it will be.

And ironically, that person has to be him. She knows him better than anybody and can't deny the gaping hole that appears in her stomach when she thinks about the opportunity that he may leave her if she starts to push their relationship into something he doesn't desire.

Or may. He will.

She signs when she turns of the water. She is scared of walking forward but too restless to remain on the same spot. And that only lead to one thing; an endless waiting that doesn't lead anywhere.

_But hey, _she thinks, drying her brown hair with her hairdryer. _How knows? Maybe this meeting will lead to something. Who knows?_

* * *

When Drew opens his eyes, it's still dark outside. He walks up, pulls away the curtains and looks at the garden outside the Pokémon Center, with all its trees, with branches that reaches for the sky. He has no idea why he woke up so early. For a guy that normally sleeps to 12:00, it's a little surprising to see the morning sun at the horizon.

As usual, he tries to analyze the problem from every edge and corner, without getting to a conclusion that he believes in. Is he nervous for the meeting? Not really. He has meet her so many times know it's starting to become a habit. Nothing wrong with that. He likes her – likes her simplicity. Likes her enthusiasm when she wins a Contest, holding that ribbon tight with that big smile of hers. Yes, that if something is amusing. She knows what she wants and is not scared of walking toward her dreams. Maybe that's why they're getting along so well.

He lies down in his bed again and looks up at the ceiling. His pokéballs lie on the table. He can't help but to feel sorry for them, lying in their balls at night when he's sleeping. Maybe he should take them for a walk before breakfast. It's not like he has something better to do right now – (than lying in the bed and stare at the ceiling.) He smiles a little when he goes up a second time and puts on trousers, a t-shirt and socks. Really, he isn't fashionable. Only when it comes to his hair. His green gorgeous hair. It's stunning – (with a chance of sounding like a self-absorbed jerk.) He tucks his fringe with his finger, puts his pokéballs in his pocket, and opens the door – walks out into the chilly but refreshing morning breeze.

* * *

_You look fine_, she's trying to convince herself. _Simple but fine._

She ties her scarf harder and puts some mascara on her eyelashes. The later is a procedure that she usually doesn't bother doing. But now she does. And the effect is rather impressive. Her blue eyes look bigger, more open. Almost **beautiful.**

_Maybe beautiful enough to impress him_, she thinks, giggles, before she leaves her room, accompanied with her nativity and wide smile.

* * *

Chapter 2! I'm sorry it's a bit short and not really eventful. But the next chapter will be, I promise! Thank you anyway for reading this. Next chapter will be up as soon as possible! I'm just waiting for inspiration!


	3. Café ChitChat

**It isn't me**

_3: Café Chichat_

_(You know that I would never leave you, don't you?"_

May sits at a café close to the Pokémon Center. Looks around. Sees a bunch of trainers that (probably) are running towards their school. There is a playground nearby where small children in bright arrays are running around – mothers that are pushing swings from behind. The kids scream in delight. She can't help but to smile at that view – so easy and yet so strong happiness. Mother and child.

_Oh, come on, May_, she thinks, wrinkles her nose. _Isn't it too early to think about kids?_

Not really. Sure, she is only seventeen but that doesn't mean it's felonious to think in those terms.

She looks at her wristwatch. 14:15. He's late. That doesn't surprise her. He is rarely in time when it comes to other meetings than Contests. Maybe that is a way of demonstrating that he is too good to spill time on gallantry. Probably. But she doesn't mind – the later he arrives, the more time she has to attempt controlling her flutter that feels like butterflies. She puts her hands (nails with blue nail-polish) on the table. It's a warm day. The sun is like a glowing sphere and there are barely any clouds on the sky.

There are no other guests in the café. That surprises her. It's a perfect day for sitting in a pleasant café – (with a dairy ice-cream melting in the sun) – talking about all and nothing. Chit-chat. She is rather good at that. Talk. But if you analyze her conversations – accurate – most of it contains nothing that goes under the headline 'important.' But she doesn't mind – why should she? – people in general does gossip. It's fun. It's simple. It's important to keep to the simplicity. Not lose track in the grievousness. Easygoingness. She and Drew do that all the time. Smashing the ball back and forth, trying to come up with cues that leave the other one stunned. He often wins. He has a sharp tongue. But with a scent of humor that always makes her titter.

If only they could talk about things that distress them. If only…

And then she realizes that she is back where she started. The problem. Her feelings. _Oh, god, please May_, she signs while she feels her head going in circles.

Luckily, her thoughts (going for the place called nowhere) get distracted by the arrival of her rival-friend-something else. He looks like he usually does. Same casual clothes. Maybe his hair is longer – (it's hard to tell.) He gives her a glance, smiles awry. Extend his chair and sits down. "You haven't ordered yet?"

She looks back. Puts her hands in her lap. "No", she says unnecessarily, now waving at the waitress, who looks so bored it's no wonder why this place hasn't any guests. She gives them a tired eye glance, raises her notebook. "Yes?"

"Ten doughnuts and five mud cakes for her", he smiles, blinking at her.

She blushes. "That wasn't nice, Drew. I'm not that fat!"

"No, you're not. Yet."

She crosses her arms. She's not going to reply on that.

The woman signs, tucks her black, curly hair back. She should've been pretty – she has engulfing brown eyes – if it wouldn't have been for the stuffy face. "Please. Just choose already."

She swallows in order to lower the impulse of saying something quirky to her. She can't take sulkers.

"Alright. _One _mud cake and a coca-cola for me, _please_." She has no idea why she added that last word.

"And_ two _doughnuts and a coffee for me. Without milk and sugar", he says, his smile is getting wider.

She glances at him before she looks down at the table, staring at the pink cloth. She has no idea what she should say to him – which is unusual. Normally, she talks too much in his society.

"So", he begins, tucking his hair. "How's life?"

She bits her underlip. Feels sweat dripping down her face, over her lips. "Okay. Fun to travel. But I'm really looking forward for the next Contest. Where is it? In Verdanturf City?"

He sips on his coffee, which the waitress has put down for a moment ago. She raises her eyebrow. They're fast. Really fast. That's something remarkable. "In Slateport City. Come on, May! What kind of Coordinator is you when don't know the location of the Contests?"

She can't help but to smile at that sentence. "A good one."

"Yeah, truly…" He takes another sip of the coffee.

"What do you think about my latest Contest? Wasn't I good? I beat Brianna…"

"You were lucky."

She gives him an angry sight and starts pouring out coca-cola in her glass. "I won."

"Barely. May, you depend too much on luck. Nothing wrong with that – luck is what makes the crowd go wild. But think; you must have a ground to stand on. You must be more aware of the opponent's strategy. You're good but you can always get better. Like me."

The waitress now comes with two plates. Puts them down and leaves – fast. "Always so critical, Drew. Why can't you just say that I've improved? Something. You said Brianna was good..."

"She was, for a newbie –"

"You like her don't you? All nice and shy and –"

He glows at her. Entwine his fingers. "How can I like a girl I don't know?"

She becomes red. She understands (all too well) that she's now walking on forbidden territory. And she hates that she's so jealous – (she has no reason to be that.) "Dunno. But I have a question for you. How come you're so popular, has so many fans? You have an unpleasant attitude."

He laughs. "Girls like unpleasant attitudes. They find a guy with humor and a sharp tongue amusing."

"And what about the e-mail you sent me yesterday? You sounded retarded in it."

"Thank you for the compliment. I was trying a new style in writing. Thought it would impress you. Obviously, it didn't work."

She looks at him, surprised. But he doesn't met her eyes, looks down at his shoes.

She signs. Puts a piece of the mud cake in her mouth, feels it melt on her tongue.

Some minutes pass. She feels grief passing through her body. It's always like this. When they (by accident) pass something serious, both turn around and walk away from it. But not this time. She doesn't want to. She wants to know.

"Can we be serious? Now?"

He bits in his doughnut, scraps fly over the table. "Sure. Go on." But he doesn't seem too interested.

"What do you think of me?"

A harsh question. Normally, he wouldn't even bother answering it. But now, he looks up. Not surprised, rather despairing. "What kind of question is that? I like you. You're my friend."

"Only that", she says silently.

Silence. Soon she will start crying.

"Always flames me. No matter how hard I try, it isn't enough." She understands that she has spoken that out load when it is already too late.

He glares at her – his mouth is a thin line. "Stop being so childish."

"And you don't have a rose for me this time, don't you?" she says moronically. How could she say such a ridiculous line? No wonder he doesn't stand her as something more than a rival.

He lifts his eye brow. His beautiful, green eyes are suspiciously following her. "I have", he mutters. "I always have…"

"For my Pokémon, that's is", she says and feels that she's sinking through the ground. Tears runs, she feels so stupid, jealous, confused.

He blinks. "Of course. The big winner is your Pokémon –"

She rises up, pushes over her glass by accident. The liquid flows over the cutch. "How could you?" she asks – exaggerated.

Then she walks away – with the hole in her chest. Leaves him there – with the questions, with the bill, everything.

How could she?

* * *

Chapter 3! I drown in my own inspiration right now! As usual reviews are always appreciated and if something is unclear, tell me! I'm sorry if the characters seems odd or something, my ideas always sound better in my head xD


	4. Issue, mail, thinking

**It isn't me**

_4: Issue, mail, thinking_

_(The silence kills more than words)_

Well, it's easy to state that something went wrong. Really wrong.

Drew sits at his chair and looks when May leaves – not giving him a glance. He wonders if he should follow her. Probably. But no. He has no idea what he should say to her. Doesn't even understand why she ran away in the first place. Did he say something wrong? Obviously he did. But what? He thinks, but he comes no closer to a conclusion. He acted as he usually does and that hasn't been a problem. Until now. But why? Why is that an equation so hard to solve?

He can't help but to feel a distressing knot in his stomach. Let her run away with tears in her eyes. And he just sits her – doing nothing. What kind of friend is he? Is he that self-absorbed jerk that he hoped that he never will turn into? Maybe. It seems so.

He rises up the coca-cola bottle. Looks at his doughnuts that are now covered by the black liquid. No matter. His appetite ran away as fast as May did. He looks up, at the sun. It has now appeared a few clouds. Birds are swaying over the light-blue sky, screaming so loud he feels his ears sting. (But it doesn't sting as hard as his head – it feels as it burns, with all these questions that he can't control.)

He wonders – why has May turned so jealous? But it was definitely something odd with all these questions that she spat at him. About Brianna. About all his fan-girls (that soon will bring him crazy). And of course, if he liked her. It's not like her asking so intrusive questions. Or intrusive may be a wrong way of putting it – more like 'personal'. What has happen to her simplicity – her simple quest of becoming the top Coordinator? Isn't he just a guide to that goal? A bus-stop? Cleary not. Has she grown up? Of course, she isn't that nervous teen-year-old girl with shaking legs that he met seven years ago. She has aged. Become taller, curvier, more feminine. He blushes. She is pretty cute. That simple hairstyle of hers fits her cute face. And he loves her eyes – blue like the ocean, burning. Maybe she has passed that level when she only wants pawky comments from him. She wants more.

But what?

He thinks deeper. Does she feel something for him? No. That's impossible. She is angry because he can't be serious when they talk. That must be the case. He jokes instead of listening. That's a problem he has. The only thing he can be serious about is Contests. But life isn't only about Contests. Oh no, it's far more complicated than that. That must be it. She doesn't like his attitude. That's it. No more…

But if he reverses the reasoning. Does he feel something for her? He blushes even more. Of course he doesn't. She is just a friend. A naïve, entertaining friend. And she will always be that to him. No matter how many years passed – his way of reading her will remain the same.

Or will it?

He tries to wave away these thoughts. They're disturbing him. Are like mosquitoes. Irritating mosquitoes.

Like her. But she isn't only irritating, she is also amusing.

He feels the waitress glares at him. Turns around and stares back. What does she want? Can't she just leave him alone – (alone with his brand-new problem.) Then he remembers – the bill.

"Well, its looks like your girlfriend wants you to pay the bill", she says, striking a cigarette.

He becomes red at the word 'girlfriend'. Feels an impulse of correcting her, but then he thinks; why would it matter if someone thinks they're a couple? The question is easy – it doesn't.

He opens his wallet and places the money on the table. Then he rises up. Stands still while some minutes pass, incapable of knowing what he should do now. He feels the smell of the exhaust gas from the cars passing through.

_How did it come to this? _he asks himself, twining a green string of hair round his finger. _And maybe more importantly, what can I do about it?_

Much. Maybe nothing. Only time will tell.

* * *

**From; may_maple**

**To; hey_im_drew_yo**

**Subject: - **

**I'm sorry I ran away. Forgive me…**

**/May**

**From; may_maple**

**To; hey_im_drew_yo**

**Subject; - **

**I'd no reason to. It just happened. Sorry.**

**And I'm sorry for spamming you. Can we talk about it? Maybe?**

**Or not. I'm sorry. I'm overreacting. As usual. **

**/May**

Why can't she stop? Why can't she see the border that keeps the road to exaggeration safe? What is wrong with her? She apologizes and apologizes, not even sure what she is apologizing for. But she is so scared of losing him, so scared that her behavior may bring him to run away from her. And never look back. And she can't have that. Can't lose him. He means so much for her. She becomes happy just seeing him, seeing his green eyes and ironic smile. Without him, she wouldn't have come this far. She's sure of it.

She logs out from Internet. Closes her laptop. Then she's just sitting there, with her arm tightly around her body, looking out from her window. Sees the beautiful park outside, with the flowers swaying in the wind. But she can't savor it. She just sees this – (which is taking over her mind.)

She doesn't understand why she has became so jealous. What's different? Nothing. Only one thing.

She has feelings for him. Feelings that is far more than she can handle.

That is the only answer that fits. Maybe not love. It's hard to say what love is. But something like that. She becomes so nervous around him, does want to impress him. But she never does. No matter how hard she tries, he stills criticizes her. That's probably good because she knows that she can always improve. She isn't good. Not yet. She has to understand her pokémon more. Being one with them. Like Ash. But she can't take too much critics. She wants praise. She wants to know if she's more to him than a rival. And she tried to ask him that at the café, but the only answer she got was prevarications. Like always. Does she mean something to him? Does he care about her? It doesn't seem so. It's her talent (if she had some) that made him keep to her side. Nothing more. Of course, he gives her roses, but those aren't for her – they're for her Beautifly. That is what he says. And he's an honest person.

Or is he? She doesn't know. And that adds to the confusion.

Tears run down, dripping down her desk. Create puddles in the wood. This is ridiculous. This can only be put under the headline bittersweet love. A worn-out drama – not able to entertain anybody.

Her mobile phone lies in front of her. It's quiet. She wonders if he would call her. No. He's probably just gruff because she ran away, making a scene. Guys don't like that – girls that are overemotional.

She hates this. Maybe not him but the situation. Hates these tears that just don't stop flowing.

She flicks her mobile phone and enters a number. Has absolutely no idea why she calls him.

The signals pass through. Finally she hears a crackle in the other side of the phone. "Yeah?"

Ash does always sound so surprised when someone calls him. She wonders why, has tried several times to come up with a conclusion, but in the end; nothing.

"It's May", she says, sniffing.

Another crackle. "May? Is that you?" He sounds so far away.

"Yeah."

"How are you?" It's hard to hear what he says.

What can she say? Why did she call him? Ash? How can he help her?

""Well, stuff is happening", she murmurs. "I have a problem."

"What? I can't hear you?" It sounds like he has food in his mouth.

She feels desolation strike through her body. More tears are falling. She doesn't even feel like repeating herself.

"Where are you?" she asks – (even if she isn't interested.)

Crackle. She signs. "In a restaurant. With Misty."

She gasps. "Oh. A… date..?"

He laughs, probably putting more food in his mouth. He is obsessed by food. Just so obsessed by food as she is obsessed by… Drew.

No. Not Drew. He is history.

"No. Just dinner." Just dinner. Like she is so stupid that she falls for that. "But how is it with you? And Drew?"

Drew. That name. That name that brings so many emotions into this cyclone.

"Okay. But not with Drew, I –"

"I'm sorry. I can't hear you. Call me later. Bye!"

He hangs up. She tilts her head against her table. She should have known better. It's Ash. Sure, he is a good friend but isn't really the right person to spit out worries to. She wants a girl friend. A friend that thinks like she does. But she has mainly male friends. Ash. Drew. Sure, she has Solidad but she is also friend with Drew so that isn't the most appealing choice. Max? Hell no. A curious little brother isn't the most intelligent choice to speak love with.

_No, _she thinks, gripping her head. _I can't have this. Not anymore._

**Drew, you know that –**

No. Not mail. Mail is dastardly.

She understands that she must choice another way if she wants so reach the goal.

* * *

Drew reads her mail. Wonders why she feels that she must apologize. It's just stupid. She hasn't done anything wrong. But she acts like she has.

Complicated. Maybe he should just go on, like nothing happened. It's easier than to linger here.

His thoughts cut by his mobile signal. He grabs his NOKIA and holds it against his ear.

"Drew", he says, impersonal as he always does when he talks in a phone.

"Hey", he hears a voice he recognizes all too well. "It's May. I have something to say to you."

Something. He smiles. That sounds intriguing.

"Sound fair to me. Go on."

* * *

Chapter 4! I'm sorry, this is a dull chapter. But it is a necessary chapter to string together the sack some more. But I promise, the two next chapters will be so much better! So bear with me. I'm so happy if you're still reading this! It means so much for me ^-^

What will happen next? What will May say? And how will Drew react? Oh, the excitement, haha xD Chapter 5 will be up before the week-end if isn't something unexpected happens! :)


	5. Seaside Talkning

**It isn't me**

_5: Seaside talking_

_(Sometimes words don't reach)_

_I love you. _

She smiles. No. She can't say that to him. That would have been so tremendous stupid and foolish – she feels sweat run down and her heart beating faster.

She understands (all too well) that she can't turn around on this road that she has chosen. No, she has to continue, no matter what lies ahead in the end.

But what can she say? Why does her tongue feel ten times bigger than usual? Easy – because she is now going to do something she never (ever) even has thought about before. Breaking the wall of his personal sphere with her bare hands, walking closer to the real Drew and not the Coordinator Drew. Not going to let him hide behind his titles and screaming fan girls. Because they're just idiots that don't know him, but she does. At least a little. She is his friend.

"Listen, can I ask you something?" she asks, scratching a bunch of squiqs on a paper that lies in front of her.

She hears a sign on the other side of the phone. "When will you realize that you don't have to ask for permission for everything?" he asks.

She nods for herself. Rather good question. So good that she can't answer it.

"Well, never?"

Silence. Then a blank statement. "With that attitude, fine. But can you spit out the question, all right?"

She feels her face getting redder. Of course she has feelings. It's meaningless – wacky – to deny that. "I want to talk to you. Would you care to join me for a walk at the beach outside of Rustboro?"

No answer. Then a weak: "You sure?"

She nods – (but then she understands that he can't see it.) "Yeah. Sure. But if you don't want to its okay –"

"Stop doing that! I can answer your questions myself! I'm so sick of it! Sure, I walk with you. See you outside the Pokémon Centre in twenty minutes!"

He hangs up. She swallows. What is happening?

* * *

Rage. Calm down. Don't get angry. That doesn't change anything.

Drew isn't really mad at May – he is mad at what she does. Her behavior. He can't stand it. Can't stand **this**. He doesn't want her to be this way.

He likes her – but he doesn't like this. And that, only that, is what makes this so complicated. Complicated.

* * *

When she left the building and walks to the Pokémon Centre, he is already there. Stand there; leaning against the wall, his mouth is a thin line when his eyes wander from the rusty building with grotty garden on the other side of the street. He doesn't even look at her when she attends, putting her hands in the pockets of her white coat. Doesn't really look mad, rather pensive. She tucks her hair behind her ear, exposes her new earring, falling close to her shoulders. Tries to smile when he at last glances at her, but it feels more like a grimace.

"Hi", she tries to say negligently, but her trembling voice makes her sound more like a nervous teen-years-old performing in front of the class.

"Good evening", he answers, stuck in the formality. Then he starts walking, towards the area when the houses and shops fade and the long, wide beaches with its sparkly sand appear. It's sunset. The sun shines with its mighty, almost orange facet. But even if it is almost summertime, it's still a little cold when the sun goes down. Good thing she brought a coat with her. Drew has only a white shirt and jeans on him. But then again, he is the kind of guy that can walk in shorts and t-shirt in the eye of the winter. Really. He never freezes. At least he never tells her about it.

They walk quietly beside each others. She bits her lip and stares at the ground. The soft ground feels agreeable under her feet. The fresh air tickles her nose. She tries to come up with a topic for conversation, but all that she can come up with is too ridiculous to even mention as a joking measure. And he doesn't help at all. Just stares ahead with his hair over his eyes.

_Dammit_, she thinks. _This was a bad idea after all. _

But now, it's no turning back.

Five seconds (approximately) they arrive at the beach. The sand is warm. She kicks of her sandals and let the grains of sand slip between her toes. Sits down and just looks at the ocean, which is stretching out in front of her. Smiles. Then he sits down besides her.

_Damn. What have I done? Why have I let this come so far?_

Because she is forced to. This is something (un)avoidable.

* * *

He remembers when he was little and sat in the classroom on his English class. If he should be honest, he isn't a swot. Has never been. Thinks studying is boring – why try to press in knowledge in your head that slips out a week later? He isn't interested in math, physics and other stupid subjects – no, he is interested in Pokémon. Is so glad that he can travel instead of festering in a dusty classroom. School is good for somebody, not him.

"Drew Hayden", said the teacher, glancing at him with eyes round like lamps. "What is love?"

He plucked back at the question. What kind of question was that? "Dunno."

"You have no idea?"

"No."

And he hadn't. How many years that passed from that simple English class, he failed to understand that simple issue.

But now. Is it different? Maybe it is.

* * *

"So, May, what did you want to tell me?" he asks, probably sick of this silence-look-at-each-other-without-saying-anything-contest.

"Many things. First of all, I want to apologize for my behavior at the café…"

"I didn't saw that one coming", he says ironically, with rolling eyes.

She glances at him angrily. "Just snap it, fool. I have something else to tell you", she continues, digging in the sand with her bare feet. "I just wonder, why are we never serious when we talk to each other?"

Surprisingly, he seems to take her question seriously. "Good question. I have wondered about that too. It just doesn't seem to be our way to associate. It's stupid. But it is hard to break a habit."

"Yeah." She doesn't know what else to say.

He turns her head and looks at her with those sparkling eyes of his. She swallows. She loves his eyes. They're so… pure.

"But I can try to change. I promise. I'm your friend after all, even if I don't always act like one. Anyway, now I have a question for you!"

She laughs. "Really? Is that even possible?"

"Probably not. But because I'm an extremely intelligent guy, I can scale the impassable. Why did you run away?"

She turns red and hides her face behind her hair. "I, ehm…"

"Gosh, you look like a tomato in the face. What's wrong?"

Sometimes guys can be so inappreciative. "Nothing. But it was embarrassing. But it's even more embarrassing to receive that I don't have a proper explanation for it…"

"You sure have. You're just scared of telling me", he smiles, putting his right leg over the other one. The wind makes his hair (if that is even possible) even more disheveled than usual. It's look like he has just got out of bed.

"Straightforward as usual." She sighs. "But I don't really know. I felt that you didn't understand me. That you didn't care for me. I never get any praise from you. I know I'm not perfect. Far from. Not like you. But still, I must have some credit, so that I feel that it's worth to continue strike for my goal."

"Of course it's worth it! You have talent! You know that yourself. Why do you think I continue to follow you? Giving you constructive critics? It's not because I think you suck. But really, I'm not a guy that throws praise around me. But maybe I must change to that aspect as well." He smirks. "Well, better?"

She feels her smile get wider. "Maybe."

"I hate you. You're so ungrateful that –"

"A joke, Drew. Do you know what that is? Anyway, do you remember my first Contest?"

He laughs at that memory. "I sure do! You were so nervous! Why?"

"I don't really know. Maybe because it's was a new branch that I knew barely nothing about. And I wanted to be good. Wanted to prove that I had talent. Now I know that I hadn't but –"

"You had talent already then", he interrupt, huddling closer to her. It's now a little colder in the air and she feels her body shaking. The sky has a few clouds that don't look very welcoming. "But you hid it under your excitability."

She blushes. "Now you give me almost too many compliments? Do you mean it?"

He skies with his eyes. "No. I'm just saying it to be funny. Of course I mean it."

"But there is also another aspect to my excitability that day", she continues. "You."

He looks at her, surprised. "Me?"

"Yeah. You were so cocky that that when you caught my frisbee that time! I wanted to show you that I wasn't clumsy and –"

"May, you're clumsy!"

"Thank you for that, mr Rose!"

He blushes a little. "Go on."

"And that I did belong to the stage."

"At first I was a little concerned about that. But now I understand that you do."

"Thanks."

They continue to talk for about thirty minutes. Maybe they aren't saying much of importance but for her it's enough. More than enough. It has started to rain. Small raindrop that falls down like nails. She shudders. "Maybe we should go back?"

"That's the best thing you said today!"

She signs. "Very funny."

For some reason (that she still doesn't understand) he has an umbrella in his pockets. He pulls that up and flicks it up. "It's good to be prepared. Anything can happen."

She smiles but doesn't answer. Walks outside the umbrella and gets sulking wet under the rain that is now surging down the black sky. Doesn't dare to walk closer to Drew. Maybe he wouldn't appreciate that.

He looks as her. "Come on, May. Come closer", he says, pulling her closer. Pulls an arm around her waist. She feels her face gets blood-red.

"Me or the rain?" he asks and smiles. "You hurt me if you chose the second alternative!"

* * *

Finally, chapter 5 is up! I'm sorry it's taking such a long time but I have so much to do at school! ARGH! Anyway, I'm trying to update at least one chapter at a week, but if I fail to do that, sorry! And as always, if you're still reading this, I'm the one who should be grateful! Thank you ^-^


	6. Bathhouse trouble

**It isn't me **

_6: Bathhouse Trouble_

_(A smile can melt ice)_

The next day arrives – with no rue, no hesitation.

"_Me or the rain?" _ His voice rings in her head. She smiles. A smile so wide that it feels like her face is going to crack. It bubbles inside her, like coca-cola that is foaming over the bottleneck. She doesn't believe it. Can't believe that he said that to her. It makes her so delighted. Maybe he does like her after all. Maybe she is more than she thought she was. For him. Although she does understand that she has to drag her feet after her now. Can't string along that this meeting at the beach will change anything. Because maybe it doesn't. She has problem to analyze if Drew meant something with his behavior. He doesn't love her. She knows. But he likes her – maybe.

This is so hard. So confusing. She tilts her head on the table. Her brown hair is messy. She doesn't care. She stretches out her body and writes an e-mail to her friend Dawn, who apparently is in Sinnoh right know, training for the Wallace Cup later this year. She likes Dawn. She has energy. Can definitely become something extraordinary if she wants.

**Hi, Dawn :) You know what, yesterday I had a talk with Drew and –**

And what? She doesn't know. Maybe it wasn't something. Maybe she is just building up her fantasy over the clouds. She wonders how he felt – if he thinks as much as she does. Probably not. He is a guy after all. There is a difference. Huge difference.

She erases the e-mail and turn of her computer. She can't write to Dawn now. Maybe later. When her head stops going around in circles, like a carousel.

She misses him. That's stupid, she knows. But she misses him so bad; it feels like he is too far away from her. Wants to see him again. Wants to talk with him again. She can't contain her urging to the only person in the whole world that makes her feel like this. Not anymore.

She looks out from her window. It's raining. Raindrops are falling from an open sky, drumming on the ceiling. She notices that the rain slides down the window like thin worms. Walk closer, touching the cold windowpane with her warm fingers. Her breathing makes the pane steamy. She puts down her hand in her pocket and brings out her phone. She must do something with him today. She can't just sit here and string on, because in the end that just makes the urging more close, more present. Maybe she is going too far but she doesn't care. Not anymore. Just one more time. Because she has no idea for how long he will remain in Rustboro. Probably not too long, because he barely remains at one place for more than a week.

_So_, she thinks, clipping with her eyes. _It's raining. What can you do when it's raining?_

Much. If you have the fantasy. May doesn't.

She doesn't want to go to a café. That would be way too embarrassing for her to handle. Challenge him on a Pokémon-match? No. It would be over before it starts.

She can't come up with _anything_. She wants to see him but she doesn't know where. That isn't logical. At all. She can't say that she just wants to see him. That would feel retarded. And that should definitely confuse Drew. She can't have that.

_Come on brain. Spit out something. _

But she has no idea what 'something' should involve.

…Swimming?

Maybe. There is a local bathhouse in Rustboro that is pretty popular, especially when it comes to those who don't like freezing their teeth of in the ocean. Like May. But she doesn't like oceans for another reason. A reason that stings in her head. She thinks about that experience when she, Ash, Brock and her brother Max went on a boat from Petalburg to Rustboro in search for the next island Dewford in Ash's eight badge run, when they stopped on an island and got attacked by a bunch of Sharpedos. That scared her. Scared her because of two things – one for her own safety but the other (and much more present) for her little brother's safety. She loves Max and it would kill her if she loses him. She knows that. She shudders. No. She doesn't want to think of that. But it shouldn't be any Sharpedos in a public bath. She smiles. _Should_.

She feels happy when she has sent away a text-message. A small flutter in her heart, like wings from a butterfly.

* * *

Drew knows. Knows that he now has passed the border – the border to the world that he doesn't understand. He can't turn back time now; he has to accept that he now has spread expectations in her that makes her believe that he doesn't want to stay friends with her anymore. And that isn't true. Or is it? _Dammit_, he doesn't know. He doesn't know anything. He is scared of getting in a relationship with her because he understands that he isn't the guy that she needs. The guy she deserves. He is scared of the new, incomprehensive. He likes her so much as a friend; her jokes and her smile, her ability to see the glass as half-full and not half-empty. What if they later broke up? Will he lose her? Probably. And he can't have that. What if he (or she) stops loving the other? That will be the end of their friendship as well. It will. Definitely. Forever.

He spins around the spoon in the milk. Breakfast cereals are sinking under the thin liquid. He isn't hungry. Not anymore. But he has to eat. Nothing will change if he harries himself.

Then he hears the signal of his mobile. He stretches out his arm and reaches it. Looks. A text-message. He can't help but to smile widely. Is it her? Does he want it to be her?

No. _Yes_.

It is her.

"**Hi there :) I have an idea. Can we go swimming at the local public-bath today? If you're not sick of me yet xD"**

_I'm not sick of you, but I'm sick of __**this**__._

Swimming? What a suggestion. Should he say 'no'? He doesn't really have time for this kind of spontaneous events. Should prepare for the next contest. Yes, he _should_.

_But he doesn't want to. _

"**That sounds… fun. But May, when I see you later you'll HAVE to tell me where you got this idea from. Deal? /Drew"**

Does he look forward to this? Yes. He does.

Looks forward to see her. Doesn't that mean something? It does.

Completely.

* * *

When they arrive at the public bath, they are sulking wet like if they already have been in the pool. "I hate you, May", Drew says, zipping up his jacket. "Do you always come up with these ideas when it's sheeting?"

She hits him on the shoulder. "You shouldn't say anything. You have an umbrella. You didn't use it. What kind of logic is that?"

He tucks back his hair and dries his face with the sleeve of his jacket. "Alright. Ten points to you. Onwards."

She smiles, feels her plastic bag swing back and forth when she moves. Raindrops are running down her face. They walk towards a woman with blood-red lips who is smoking a cigarette with that kind of elegance that May doesn't understand. She seems tired, has pouches under her eyes. Doesn't notice when they stop in front of her. Two minutes pass. Drew waves his arm in front of her (not very appealing) face. "Hello? Anybody there?" May flutters. A giggle that comes from her throat, making her shiver.

"Oh? Sorry. You two are gonna bath?"

He rolls with his eyes. "No, we're here for no reason", he says.

She doesn't seem to get the irony. "Alright. Pay and go inside."

And so they did.

May stands in front of the mirror, spins around, and looks at her brand-new bikini that sparkles in blue and white. She loves bikinis. She loves clothes. Loves to buy clothes that suit her personality, that makes her easygoingness and happiness shine through. She grins at her own image, wraps her towel around her body and walks into the innermost areas of the bath-house. Rinses out her body and hair in the shower along the way, and finally she reaches the pools. The area is gigantic and when you look forward, you'll see three different kinds of pools. In the center; the common pool. Right: Children's pool. Left: bubble-pool. She smiles. This is awesome. It's impossible to put it in another way. After a while, she sees Drew, who is sitting on a chair and glares at her.

"And five years later, May appears", he mutters.

"Exaggerations, Drew", she laughs. "Come on. Let's go", she continues, feeling the smell of chlorine stings in her nose. She walks with her bare feet towards the common pool, stops when she reaches the edge. "It looks cold, Drew", she states, throwing her towel backwards – it flies away as elegantly as a pinion bird.

"And you are ridiculous", he states and pushes her down in the pool. She screams when the cold water rinses over her, her mouth filled with chlorine-filled water. She struggles like a fish on barred land and when she reaches out her arms, she feels her hands shave the bottom. Pushes with her feet to reach the water surface. Her hair sticks on her cheeks. When she looks up, she sees Drew looking down at her, smiling.

"That was today's entertainment", he says.

"You can get more if you want. But don't stand there like an idiot; come down."

And so he did.

At first, they swim a couple of lengths, back and forth. May isn't particularly a good swimmer, but she finds it relaxing to make her body float in the sulking water. She lies in the water, with her eyes shut, when she suddenly gets hit by a ball, right in her face. She reaches the bottom with her toes, glaring at the beholden. "You're so funny right now," she signs.

"I know. Always", he answers, swimming towards her. Then he clutches her waist and drags her on his shoulders. Then he starts swimming. She gasps, scared of falling off. She feels his soft skin under her legs. She blushes. _Oh my god_, she thinks, gripping his hair to gain some balance. His hair is so smooth. Wants to run her fingers through his hair. _No, no. This is too much I –_

In the next minute her thoughts get cut off when Drew is throwing her in the water, like a ball. She gets water in her nose. "Thank you, fool! You're very charming!"

She blushes when she says that. Her cheeks get so hot that you could fry eggs on them.

"I definitely am", he smiles.

* * *

He can't prevent it. Can't prevent his generally duteous attitude from slowly disappearing. To nothing. Smaller than nothing. Can't prevent his desire of pressing down her head under the water. Can't prevent his volition of smiling down at her angrily waving arms.

Can't prevent it.

Can't prevent this from happening.

Not anymore.

* * *

"So", May says peremptory, standing at the pool's edge. "Behold, Drew, now I'm gonna show you my graceful way of performing a dive!"

"You?" Then he laughs. "You, May? You're as graceful as a stone!"

"Thanks", she mutters, starting to swing with her body just to get some velocity. Then she _should _have preformed a dive, but of course she trips on the edge and falls right in the water. On Drew. He catches her. Then they look in each other's eyes. She feels her face get red. He is so near.

Too near.

What should she do?

* * *

And five years later, I make an update! :P I'm so sorry for this delay but I've been so busy with other things. School = as always, a trip to Berlin and other stuff like that. But here is chapter 6, I will try to keep the 'one chapter a week' but I will probably fail. As always. Well, happy reading! As always, I don't own anything and if you find grammar or spelling mistakes, I'm sorry.

Gasp! What WILL she do?


	7. Dawn, Misty, May

**It isn't me**

_7: Dawn, Misty, May_

_(Kiss me, baby)_

_

* * *

_

It grows, it suspends, he can't control it anymore

* * *

Dawn smiles happily when she approaches Oreburgh City. She tilts her head awry when her visage meets the mines, reaching up for the sky. Bits her lips and starts to think about the new plan in her agenda – the agenda that she doesn't own.

She has always focused _only _on Contests when she traveled with Ash and Brock but now she wants to go for the eight badge run. Wants to test her bond with her Pokémon to the limit – glowing, that kind of bond Ash has with his Pikachu. She isn't a good battler, she knows. But she can always get better. Clings to that conclusion. She must try, or else she throws in the towel for no reason. She _can_ do this. She can defeat the first Gym Leader – no problem. What is his name? She doesn't even remember. Tries to recall her memory, when Ash fought with him. A _guy _– she knows that much. A guy with glasses, reddish hair and a thing for fossils. He uses Rock-Types. She has her Prinplup. It's perfect. The match should be a piece of cake. _Should_. She hates that words passionately – the confusion, vagueness it creates. Inhales, waves her arms back and forth and walks into the city – the dusty air from the mines makes her eyes water. She looks at the clock hanging down at her wrist. Quarter past ten. Perfect. Although she has been here before – several times – it still feels like her first visit. She doesn't remember so much – only the mines. But when she sees the houses, the people working near the mine – lifting rocks up and down – she can't help but to smile. Awesome. Dawn likes customs. Likes when things remain as they are. She understands that some things are born to change. That some things can't last forever. Life isn't like that – it changes, changes like the weather – to sunny mornings to stormy evenings.

But before she plans to face the Gym Leader she walks to the Pokémon Center to heal – (or Nurse Joy more specific) – her Pokémon which are tired due to the long road from Jubilife to Oreburgh. She sits down at a chair near the exit, yawning. She isn't used to traveling alone – it's a feeling – hauteur – that travels back and forth in her body – something _else_. She thinks about if she should call her mom – but _nah_, that isn't necessary. Not now. She is older – not that scared little teen-year-old with thin legs she was when she started – she is now fifteen and is more than capable of taking care of herself. She knows that. Feels that. And if she gets the change to lie her fingers on a Sinnoh-Badge – that feeling will only suspend. Reaching for the sky.

"Dawn, your Pokémon are ready", Nurse Joy suddenly calls, awaking Dawn from her daydreams that circle around her small head. She smiles back, moving her blue hair backwards with a nonchalant gesture. When she straps the Balls around her belts again she starts – (she doesn't know why) – to think about May. Wonders what have become of her. They have kept a close contact – calling, e-mailing, but she hasn't received something from the brown-haired girl in a while. Dawn isn't worried, more curious. Wonders if May and that green-haired bastard Drew are a couple now. They should be. They're perfect for each other – like a fairytale coming to life – rising from the bottom of the sea over the surface. She has meet Drew several times and despite his big mouth and incapability of taking even the most obvious hint – he is nice. He is good for her. They have that invisible string that's keeping them together, making them united. One. Not two – one. You're stupid if you don't see that.

_But look who are talking_, she thinks for herself, taking a stroll around the city, looking at those old-fashioned houses with smoke rising up from the chimneys. She wants to live in one of those when she's older. _You who haven't got your first kiss._

Yet. She keeps adding the 'yet'. Clings to it. She doesn't have to run for it – it will come. Maybe sooner than she expects. Who knows? Only time will tell.

But May and Drew are something else. She can't describe it in another way. It is just like that.

Sooner than she expects she sees the Gym heaps up in front of her. It's huge. She tries to look inside the glass-doors but only sees a couple of shoes walking forth and back and a desk. Is she ready for this? Probably not but who cares? She has heard that the first Leader isn't really that good. Of course it's like throwing in the towel walking inside the building with a naivety like that but still she clings to it. She has a chance. She can do this. No problem. She reads the sign outside the entrance. _"Call me Roark the Rock" _she reads. Roark. Right. That is his name. She remembers now. Not that it matters. She walks towards the entrance and walks inside when the door opens by itself. It's a little cold inside and the walls are shaped like a long, narrow tunnel. The ceiling is low – which increases the mine-feeling, which probably is the purpose. There is no light besides small bulbs hanging on the wall which makes it hard to see. But she spots the desk and walks towards it. A man reading a newspaper stands in front of her, not giving her a glance. She clears. No reaction. Turns a page in the newspaper. She folds her arms, glaring. Stamps with her feet. What is this? What kind of rudeness is this? She feels ridiculous, restive.

"Hello?" she says. "I would like to-"

"Who are you?" the man interrupts, nips his lips. "Have you made an appointment here?"

She lays her hands on the desk. "No, but I would like-"

"Would like this, would like that. That's not how the world look, _lassie_." he explains, patting her head awkwardly, as she is a child of three years. He has a dripping voice, thick as syrup. She hates it. "Besides, the Gym Leader isn't here today. He has a day-off. Too bad."

Day-off? That doesn't exist in her mind. "What? Why?"

"I don't know. The mines I guess. He's often there."

As if she is stupid. "But he's back tomorrow?"

He leans forward and smiles maliciously, with a cigarette swinging up and down when he talks. She wrinkles her nose when the smoke reaches her nose trills. What kind of person is this? His smile reminds her of a Croagunk – no offense to the Poison/Fighting Pokémon.

"He sure is but that doesn't help you. Listen, if you sign yourself here I put you on the waitlist", he continues, pointing at a pile of paper standing in front of him, now covered by the ash of his cigarette. "Come back after a week."

"A _week_?" she repeats, like a parrot. "Are you crazy? I don't have time for-"

"You aren't the only one in the world. There are plenty. Accept this or leave it. I don't have time for you anymore. Good-bye."

A week? She repeats that over and over again. That isn't even logical. It can't be so many challengers. She swallows the impulse of spitting him in the face – _you're a nice girl, Dawn _– gives him an angry glance before she leaves. Okay. That went good. Or not. What should she do now? Wait? No. She isn't the girl that waits for the next bus, she runs after the previous one. And she can't do anything while that idiot still remains at the desk, can she? No. So why won't she go to the mines? And train? Nothing bad can come from that. She sweeps of the dust from her skirt before she runs towards the mine. It's big. Much bigger than she remembered it to be. Fellow workers walk past her, so blinded by their work that they don't even spot her. She calls out her Prinplup before she enters the mine, gets consumed by its might and darkness.

It's extremely beautiful. Special when you walk to its interior corners. Diamonds are glowing on the walls, glowing from the small light-gates from the bulbs. The air is dry, the smell of earth present. Her feet sink in the dirt but she doesn't care. Sits down. A couple of Zubats fly past her but they don't mind her. As she doesn't mind them. She puts up a rock and weighs it in her hand. It's small, white and has a smooth touch. She wonders why she didn't like this place before – then it was necessary for training – nothing more – but now? It's wonderful. No wonder why Roark spends so much time here.

She straightens up her body and throws a visage down the corridor, darker than dark. Turns around. Then she hears a voice:

"_Hi, Dawn."_

And she falls to the ground.

* * *

He wants to turn away but he can't. There is no way.

_

* * *

_

"Ash?" Misty repeats for maybe the fifth time. "Who was it?"

As usual, it's impossible for her to get an answer. Has to drag out the answer. And she is tired of that. But as long as he will remain this fatuous and clueless when it comes to signs – always – she still has to deal with it. Has to struggle to try to understand him. Maybe she never will do that. But it's worth trying. Because it's something with him. She can't hide it anymore. Many probably already know this. And it's okay. As long as they don't talk about it, mention it, in her present. She doesn't want her blood-red cheeks and big mouth to spoil everything. Not now.

"Ash. Please. Stop annoying me", she mutters, sups from her Coca-Cola. The dinner lies in front of her – spaghetti Carbonara, but she is so stressed and nervous for this... _date_ – she hates that word – that she hasn't time to put her fork and knife in it. But he does. Apparently. He eats as much as he usually does, gobbles food like a Snorlax. Or Munchlax.

"Okay, okay", Ash finally says, swallowing. "I swear, you're so curious. It was May."

May. _Okay_, she thinks, rests her head on her hands. "What did she want?"

He rolls his eyes and twins spaghetti around his fork. He has already managed to spill out his Fanta over the red cloth; the liquid spreads out and has an interesting shape. But that is him – the way she wants him to be. Clumsy – she isn't much better herself. Stupid. But oh so determined when it comes to something he wants.

"I don't know. There is bad reception in this restaurant. But I guess she wanted to tell something. I'm going to call her later when I get this over with."

"What?" she shouts, her reddish ponytail flapping. Is he joking or what? Sometimes it's hard to tell.

He just looks at her with those brown eyes of his. "Why do you look so chocked? Did I say something?"

_Apparently you did_, she thinks for herself, putting her fork in the food, scraping the teeth against the plate – creating a sound that cuts in the ear.

"Stop doing that", he complains, kicking with his feet on the table-leg.

"Stop _complaining_", she snaps back. What kind of date is this? It sucks. She inhales – trying to keep her happy – (agoged) – mind on stage. "Anyway, who is this May? Is she your best friend? I've heard that she is pretty cute – do you think that too?" she asks, before she realizes that it's a big _nono_, talking about other girls on a date – and more importantly – asking about _their _appearance. Is she stupid? Here she's got the chance – (the chance she has waited for in years – which Ash so bold has ignored) – and now she is ruining it- throwing it in the sea.

His mouth is still full and it takes a while before the conversation continues. _Is he here for the food or me? _she asks herself but later shakes her head. There is no time for negotiations. She has so play with the pieces she has.

"May? Oh, I don't _know_. I'm really close to her. But when I moved to Sinnoh, it felt like our friendship toned down a little. We called, e-mailed. You know. And she's cute. Very cute. She's getting real famous now in Hoenn. You can read about her in the newspaper. I have one at home", he babbles, even if she isn't interested.

She can't help but to smile. This is so typically him. There is like venturing on a standstill horse hoping that she will get a compliment for him. And she finds that amusing – now when she has realized that.

"Why do you ask?"

"I don't know. Interested? Ash, quit gobbling food when I'm talking to you. This is a date, not a food-eating contest."

"But the food is awesome here", he moans, pouring salt over the pasta.

"Yeah, yeah. It has a sweet flavor. But listen-"

"You haven't even tasted it", he interrupts, glaring intensely at her.

"I have", she states and puts one piece of spaghetti in her mouth. It's good, it's not that. But she has other things to take care of before feasting this restaurant – with the nice decorations, room shaped like an square, with the fashionable curtains that matches the cloths on the table. "It's good", she said unnecessary, licking away the sauce from her lips. "But I want to talk to you also. That's why I'm here with you and not alone."

"Okay, okay, I get your point", he mutters. He also has problem with this. Keeping it cool. Remaining himself. "So, I'm not eating. Not drinking. What do you want to say?"

She signs. "Don't do that. You know that a conversation doesn't come by ordering."

"Nope, it doesn't. And we have talked before. It's not a date that way."

"Not a… What are you saying?" This is getting worse. Adds to the confusion. Her confusion.

"Well", he starts intelligently. "No. Forget it."

Silence.

"This is a date for me", she says, spinning her fork around the pasta. Smears the plate with the sauce that tickles her nose.

"I'm not say-"

Interruption. They're doing that constantly. They barely care anymore.

"And it's not like we know each other entirely. You've been to two different locations. Meet new friends, you've aged. Sure, some of you are the same as before. You still are a jerk", she smiles, getting him to smile as well. "But you've change too. You've receive many Badges. Coming closer your dream. The dream you've clinging to for so long. It's like getting to know you again. Maybe it's not the same with me. But with you it is. I like you, Ash. You know that. I hate to admit it but I do."

He tilts his head and looks deeply at her. She blushes and turns her head away. Why did she get all emotional like that? It's not like that's the side of her he wants…

Or? No one knows. It's hard to foretell the upcoming when it comes to this.

"Oh", he says densely, totally breaking the moment. "Really?" He really is stupid.

"So, let's continue on this date and see what it leads. It may leads to a wall. It may leads to something neither of us expect. We will see."

"Alright. But you know what, Misty, first dates aren't usually that good."

* * *

He leaves it to her. That's the only thing he can do.

_

* * *

_

So close. Way too close. She can't handle this. Struggles. Off. She must get _of _him. The water touches her feet. Her cheeks burn. It feels like her whole face is going to melt, like butter in the boiling sun.

"May. May! Stop it!" he exclaimed, holding her arms. "Stop struggle like a fish on the line. There is no need to. Come on, _relax_." His eyes are zooming in on her.

"Drew, I must get-"

"You must nothing", he interrupts smoothly, laying a finger over her lips. "You're cute May. Especially when you're looking like an overboiled crawfish."

She can't say anything. Can't comment. Can't anything. She feels his smell, feel _him_. Her heart thumps. Her visage wanders.

But when his lips reach hers she black-outs.

And that's not a bad thing.

* * *

The next chapter obviously. As usual I'm sorry for the delay but now I have summer break and maybe my inspiration comes back. And oh, this time It's not so focused on May x Drew but that will come :) I'm happy if you're reading this, I know it isn't very good but I will try to improve. I'm not owning anything besides from the story. And I guess this story will be longer than ten chapters just so you know. I'm not done yet!

N/A: More Drew x May action next chapter! I love those two, it's crazy. And oh, when it comes to Dawn, I've no idea who that guy is. So if you have any ideas, suggestions, whatever, you can drop in that in a review and maybe I put that one in the story. Who knows? :D Thanks for reading this


	8. DMM again!

**It isn't me**

_8: DMM again!_

_(I want to drown in your eyes)_

"Geez, Kenny! Was it really necessary to scare me like that?" Dawn asks, still sitting on the cold floor of the mine.

He smiles and walks glower. Truth to be told; she hasn't seen her childhood-friend in quite some time; she has been occupied with her own schedule of… something. She doesn't really have a name for it. She can see that he has grown taller, his hair is styled in a hairstyle that really only fits him but besides from that… nah, he's probably the same. She looks up and throws an angry glare at his direction but he only laughs at her… not so convincing attempts to insult him.

"No", he answers. "But I did it anyway."

She coughs and stands up, while leaning against the wall. "Good for you I guess."

"Ah, come on, DeeDee, was up with that new attitude of yours?"

She moves her shoulders. "I've grown."

He rolls with his eyes. "I see that. I'm not blind."

A random Zubat passes by while screaming unpleasantly. She watches as it flies into a different area of this enormous cave. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm being too rude. But I wanted to challenge Roark and that bastard in the reception wanted otherwise. It was wrong to put my anger on you."

"Don't you worry about that", he says and hugs her tightly, treating him like she is a new-found teddy-bear. "But hey, are you a trainer now? I thought you were only into Contests."

"I was. But you know; things changes. I want to try. How knows? I might get far. Probably not the League but something like that. Close."

He pats her on the shoulder, reminding her how gentle and caring he always is and how many times she has forgotten it. She should have kept the contact with him but that's the problem when it comes to friends. They come and go, like time. Some remains, some disappears. "That sound good at all but before you do that; how about taking a drink with me?"

It isn't really a question, she notices. She smirks. "Okay. You have to tell me what you've been up to, you know."

* * *

Is she cute? How can it be so hard answering that question? Misty doesn't know. Sure, she can look in magazines and signal which of the resent – (that will remain as long media obeys it) – superstars who is hot or not but when it comes to herself. Let's just say that's extremely more difficult.

She really shouldn't wasting time in the bathroom while Ash is probably eating his whole wage up but now when she's actually thinking about it; this date doesn't seem to roll down the hill very well. And when she starts thinking that way – her minds go blurry and the flutter comes crawling inside her skin. As usual. Maybe that's why it took her so long to reveal to him – in a decreases manner of course – what she feels for him. And then-

Oh, please, focus. Okay. You're fine. You have two blue eyes. You have red hair in a ponytail at the right side. Or is it the left? She spins her head. No matter. The green eye-shadow kind of emphasizes her already big eyes. Or has she put on too much makeup? Being the tomboy she on the inside still believes she is, she's not use to the extremely difficult term called "makeup." But today she has eye-shadow, mascara _and _lipstick. Maybe she looks like a clown. Her cheeks are red as the tomatoes in her food. And-

Oh, come on now, Misty Waterflower. This is nonsense. She splashes some water on her cheeks in attempt of cooling them down – nothing happens – and walks out again. How long has she been there? Don't think about it. She wobbles forward on her high heels. It's very slippery on the floor. Notices Ash how is glancing at her direction. So, he actually wondered why she took so long in there. A good sign. Or a bad – maybe he wants her to stay in there forever. _Oh, please, stop thinking! _She looks at him, almost drown in those brown eyes that's so typically him. He's just so… cute. There is no order way to describe his appearance. Not hot. Just cute. In a good way.

Then – like written in the journal called destiny, occurs the thing that must not happen. She trips on the floor, falls forward. She tries to regain her balance but that's pointless. And then she can just helplessly watch when she crashes right into the table and her head hits the bowl with the spaghetti Carbonara. The hot soup burns her face. But the worst thing – as things as they are aren't bad enough, she hears a voice in front of her. "I must say you're a real entertainer today, Misty."

_Sweet_, she thinks with tears in her eyes when he gently puts a hand under her chin, helping her up.

* * *

Drew. Drew. All May can ever think of is that name. Drew. She… She kissed him! That is really something to write in the diary she doesn't have. Oh. It's too much. She can barely think when she walks – jumps – on the street back to the Pokémon Center. It's already dark outside and the moon shines with all its pride. And not only the kiss; afterwards they went to the restaurant, fetching dinner because she felt (and probably he too) her stomach dancing like crazy due of the lack of food before. She didn't really say much. Her mind was in some other place. With him, even when he was sitting in front of her with that usual smirk in his handsome face. "My, aren't we distant today, May?" he asked and took a sip from his coca-cola. She only blushed.

Yes. She was distant. But happy. She behaves like a schoolgirl but she doesn't care. Never thought that this was going to happen. Not a chance. He never seemed interested in her and she soon gave up her attempts. Well, almost anyway. She never stopped being with him. Because she couldn't. He was /is/ something special. Exiting. And yet seemed to care, even if he didn't show it. But those roses… Maybe. He said they were for Beautifly but that could've been an excuse. Or maybe she's just imaging things. None of it does matter now.

When she gets to the Center she walks through the automatic doors and walks up the stairs to the room she has booked for one more day before she will take her leave to Slateport, to the next Contest. Puts the key into the locker and then turns. Opens. And to her ultimate – no exaggeration – surprise she notices that Drew is sitting in her bed.

"W-What are you doing here?"

He smiles, goes up and embraces her. Kisses her on the cheek. She blushes. Again. Will that never stop? "I can leave."

She giggles – can't prevent it. "No. Don't. I'm just surprised. How did you get in here?"

"That, my friend, is a secret."

She looks down at her feet, dusty shoes and doesn't know that to do next. The next moment he leans back at the wall, put his hands under his chin. His eyes follow her calmly. For some reason that makes her even more nervous. He's just…

So wonderful. But she can never tell that to him.

"I'm sorry", she says. "I'm just not used to this… I… I don't mean that I don't want to, it's just... you know…"

He walks a step forward, lets his fingers slide through her head. Takes both her hands in one of his. "Don't worry. You don't need to explain. I…" Has she heard right? Did he falter? "Well, I like you."

If all the explanation she thought she would hear, that wasn't one of those. "Oh." She blushes even more. "I like you too. Very much."

This seems right. Seems. But he can't still shake of the feeling. That it's not only roses. But something else as well. That's why he can't say it. The three simple words she deserves.

_I love you._

* * *

Ah, this chapter isn't really good. I'm suffering from a huge writer's block right now. Sorry :) And oh, I'm posting the previous chapter again because it had some massive grammar issue that I hopefully have fixed now.

Disclaimer; I don't own Pokémon. I wish I did though. That would be awesome.


	9. Meeting with the BBoy

**It isn't me**

_9: Meeting with the B-boy_

_(Friends don't have to be there forever)_

May's shoes are scoping up the soft soil beneath her as she's jogging past the crowed city filled with dress establishments and restaurants, which she likes but not craves, and notices the high trees around her where the sunlight gleets through the leaves. She loves jogging because it makes her relax and when she relax the thoughts in her head seem to possess a logic which makes it possible for her to understand and accept them. And she loves when her muscles are stretched out, filled with adrenaline and the thought that there is only one thing she _has _to focus on when it comes to this simple (yet wonderful) sport; continuing running. And the feeling when she passes the goal for today, extends her capacity and almost ("almost" is the key word here) soars in the sky, is so genuine and perfect and makes her forget everything else. This is present, this is happening now and nothing could take that fact away. And no matter what does happen in her life (which is much, she's human, and humans always change in timing with life) she could rely on this source, it would never lie to her and she could cut out reality and only be here and now.

_Well_, she thinks as she passes a couple of Trainers that still believe that the road to the Elite Four is a simple one, and that's okay, because as long as they dream, they will still move forward. _Let just say that this strategy doesn't work since Drew came into the picture. _

And it doesn't. Because Drew is special that way; he's bigger, faster and moves too fast for her to avoid him. His ironical smiles follows her even when sweat is pouring down her face and her feet start to hurt, because he does that, because this is too big to be avoided – because he's wonderful, she has a crush on him and there is a change that it isn't the famous one-sided love that's often displayed in movies or books. Or in reality, for that matter. But not this. This can't be one-sided, not when it actually _seems _that he wants to spend time with her. Not only as friends, more, and…

_No_, the thought spin around her head and make her dizzy, she almost doesn't notice that she's about to run into another Trainer. Quickly, she turns to the right as the little boy with the ugliest cap she has ever seen in her life (don't parents think about their children's clothes anymore, May's surely does) sends out his Zigzagoon from its Pokéball. She smiles when she notices this; she loves Pokémon, and loves the way little kids today are interacting with the most wonderful creature in the world. Kinda hard to tell if you consider the idea that she didn't like Pokémon as first, but she was young and naïve and thought that memories (and fears) from the past would last together. But, they won't.

She knows that now.

How is it possible to be so extremely happy? It's foaming in her chest, like soda, and every step she takes it feels like she's gonna left the ground and fly to nowhere and everywhere. Wonders if she has missed love in general, or that it could only be him. Hard to really tell, but she has been into a serial relations under her life so the answer points toward the second alternative.

Because love is like that, when it's real it's consuming, it's always with you. Near you. No matter what. You know when it's real, true. You just know it.

She blinks as she stretches out her legs to surpass the hill in front of her, her brown hair blows backwards, in front of her face – and she's so busy stroking it back that she doesn't note that she runs straight into the back of someone until it's too late – and both fall to the ground. The grass beneath her is soft, like a pillow and she soon looks up if an attempt to reduce the damage (on the agonizing scale.)

"Oh, Latias, I'm so sorry", she exclaims and crawls closer to the victim. And gasps when she notices who he is.

It's not a stranger. Not at all.

It's Brendan.

But a much older, masculine (and different) Brendan than she's used to know.

It's not that she doesn't like him (she does) and it's not that she doesn't want to see him, but it feels so strange, almost creepy, when you meet someone that you know and don't know – because he may has change and he may be the same. You never know.

She stares at him and he looks back, before his stiff mouth cracks into a smile when he recognizes her. He looks more mature, his eyes are sharper, like eagles, drilling into its victims, glowing in a shade of red that emphasize his inner strengths. Still, he uses overalls but this one suits him more – he could swim in his older ones, and the same old white hat over his black hair, but it fits him. Rather good-looking, if you like the type, which May doesn't – (because a certain male with green eyes prevents her to inhale Brendan's true potential.)

"Hi!" he greets, while looking down at her knees. His backpack fell in the grass under their collation and a couple of Potions and Antidotes rolls out in the grass. He gives his medicines a look before he puts it back in the backpack. Luckily, he seems as nervous as she feels, which doesn't make her feel that omitted. "Long time no see."

"Yeah", she murmurs awkwardly, while pulling out the grass from the soil. "How have you been?"

He gives her a look, he's probably not used to this shy May, usually she can talk like there is no tomorrow but it's something with this unexpected meeting that makes her feel nervous, maybe because it's so unexpected and that he has changed into someone that she doesn't know anymore.

"Good, I guess", he snorts and then narrows his eyes at her direction. "But that's not the point, I want to hear _everything _about you. But not here. Let's take a drink at one of the cafés in Rustboro."

He grabs her arms, slowly dragging her up from the grass and leads her back to the city. She doesn't protest, because she knows that that would've been in vain. When he wants something, he gets it. She remembers that that is one of his abilities that she doesn't know how to handle.

* * *

But she still ends up at the closest café with a coca-cola in front of her. Slowly, she spins around the straw when she lays her eyes on him. "So, how many badges have you won yet?" she asks and grins, cursorily, even more due to the gloomy experience in his face that appears after the question.

He sips on his Fanta. "Five", he says. "I know, I know", he continues before she even says anything else. "That's not very good", he murmurs and becomes victim to his own self-negation. "But I've beat Norman, your dad. Remember when you said that I never _ever _would gain skill to beat his Slakings?"

She smiles over the straw. Oh, she sure does. Maybe that depends on the fact that her dad always seems to be superior of _anyone _around her age. And she has a strange connection with Norman, when he loses; she loses (figuratively.)

She's still in her jogging-dress and her hair sticks to her face but she doesn't really care. One; because she's not that into clothing, not when you compare herself with Dawn. She wants to look good of course (well, at least around Drew) but she's more into "natural-beauty" than the "make-up beauty." Two; this is Brendan and he isn't smelling cologne himself and three; if Brendan judges her more in excess of her appearance than personality, this is going to be a short meeting.

"Well, I guess you were lucky", she smiles and kicks him playfully with her feet under the table. "Have you noticed some improvement in your battles?" she asks and flicks with her hair – a habit since she met Drew because he does that all the time. Even though he does it with grace, something she doesn't.

"Well, yeah. But I guess that I don't have natural talents. Because I lose more than I win."

"Everybody loses. You should've seen me in the beginning of my Contest-career. I _sucked_. And look at me now."

He smiles and tilts his head. "You look like the same to me."

"Stop ruining the moment!" she says angrily, which only makes his smile wider. "I swear, you still that unemotional bastard that I knew once in my life."

"Years don't do much to your personality, you know. But more so to your life. That's why it's so interesting to catch up! And you seem well, May. Like you're happy. I like that. Tell me; have something good happen?"

When she hears his sentence she smiles. "Something good?" That's an understatement. She lets her visage wander and notices some Wingulls flying past the roof of the closest apartment, the morning (yes, it's still morning) sun that hides behind clouds and some cars that drive past the café with overstrained workers.

"Yes", she says with a stupid grin in her face. But the smile slowly fades when she tries to analyze the dumfounded look in his face. It's obvious that he knows what she's thinking about. "I'm together with Drew. He's my boyfriend."

His reaction isn't what she wants. It it's the cheery _oh, I'm so happy for you!_ But the intrigued staring that comes from his eyes is something else, a reminder that maybe, just _maybe _she walks too fast and doesn't analyze her behavior until it's too late. Is Drew her boyfriend or is it just something she makes up because _she _wants it to be that way. It's not that she has asked. Maybe for Drew this isn't something that may go on and float in the waves forever, maybe it's…

No. She can't think about it.

Brendan leans his head forward and she doesn't know how to read those eyes. Or read him. Then another thought soars into her head and she almost in a stupid, exaggerated way, want to cry. She has always seen Brendan like a friend, and nothing more, but what if he sees her in another way? No, no. That's much worse, she can't handle the thought, she wants to run away and scream because she can't handle the situation that for some minutes ago transformed her into a teenager in love. Why does life have these sharp twisting, sure, it makes life more interesting because you never know what lies ahead in the next corner, but these emotions, they're boiling under the skin and she has no idea how to handle them. Nobody has. That's life. It comes, it consumes, you could do nothing about it.

"What's wrong?" she asks while looking down at her drink. "Aren't you happy for me?" she continues, her voice almost edging to hysteria. He waves with his hands to calm her down.

"Don't take it like that. I'm just thinking about you. You know that this Drew has a certain… reputation about being ridiculously popular among females?"

"Are you calling me stupid? Of course I've noticed."

"Noticed, yes. But you must understand it. I don't want you to get hurt…"

His words are supposed to be caring and for another human it certainly would've been, but for her – no, she doesn't want to hear this. Drew is alright. Drew is fine. She can't stand that the reality isn't the way she created it to be (even though she knows that it's risky, foolhardy and sad.)

"I'm not going to get hurt! Stop implying that! And why are you looking at me like that? Do you want me?"

Usually, that's not a question you ask, but when she notices that it's too late and the question floats in his ear. She blushes. What's wrong with her? What exactly is wrong with her?

Everything.

He gapes. "What? No, no! I've a girlfriend. It's just… you're my friend, May and I'm…"

His sentence fades out as she reaches up from the chair, ready to leave before she shames herself even more.

"And you're mine. And Drew is my boyfriend. And he will always be."

But Brendan's eyes tell another story. And she can't deal with the doubt he's creating.

Drew likes her. Doesn't he?

* * *

This goes too fast. Drew knows that. But he doesn't know how to make things different. He only knows one thing.

He doesn't want to hurt May.

Doesn't want to see tears in those pool-like eyes, because that's the ultimate failure. Girls like May shall not cry, because it doesn't suit them.

But he knows that it will be the upcoming to be expected if he doesn't do anything.

But what?

And he isn't sure that a relationship is the answer.

It feels right. It does. He likes her. He really does.

But does he _love _her? Probably. But it's hard to know. Hard to understand.

And he doesn't want to create something that will break and then die.

Because there is _one thing _that he can't ignore. And it may (he hates the fact but can't put it under the pillow) just be the excuse for him to destroy everything and leave the bird to fly with broken wings.

* * *

N/A: Gah, what's wrong with me? I write slow as hell and most of you have probably forgotten whole about this story but the good thing is that I now know how this story is going to continue. But don't expect faster updates heh. Thank you for reading this :D And yeah, Brendan has a girlfriend in this but I've no idea who it is and it doesn't really matter for the story.


	10. Do you like Barry, Dawn?

**It isn't me**

_10: Do you like Barry, Dawn?_

_(No I don't - yes you do)_

* * *

She never ever wants it to end. Could that be so wrong? No. Since he's like candy, drenched in sugar and increases her sugar-rush, tastes the sweet temptation that he creates inside her and she never ever wants it to stop. She knows that she's ridiculous and naïve, but why would that be wrong when she's a seventeen-year-old girl in love with the most wonderful, wonderful boy in the word? And she never comes with an answer, because there not any and that's enough for her to believe, to understand that this is real.

"Drew, why didn't you tell me before? Why did you wait?" she asks and smiles and laughs and he only smirks. Flicking with his hair as usual, and she loves, loves, loves the gesture so much since it's his and she wants everything that's his.

She's lost. She's in love. She's stuck in the trap and doesn't want to get out. Maybe that's wrong.

"Why didn't YOU tell me before", he asks back and moves his finger across her arms, making her shiver. His fingertip is so warm, creating butterflies and flying fairytales inside her that she believes, trusts is real. "You can't just blame me here."

She grins. Wants to hug him but doesn't, because she can't move too far, yet. Even though she wants. This has gone on for only one week but it feels like an eternity. Since the start, since she met him for the first time on Slateport's coast, before her first contest, she has felt something for him. Maybe it wasn't love, not from the start, but it grew, grew and grew and now it's too big for her to handle. And he wants to handle it for her. She may be naïve but why would it end, when it's so clear and pure and perfect? Brendan's doubts couldn't change a thing, he may be worried for her but he has a girlfriend and she's happy. Drew is wonderful. Why would it end? No. There is no point. "You always said the rose was for Beautifly."

"Don't drag that argument for an eternity. It wasn't just me. It was you as well that denied it."

"Not as much as you do."

He smiles. "Maybe not."

She smiles back and rests her chin on his shoulder. "But now it's different. I like you. Love you."

He looks out from the window, where the sunset sun draws red lines in the blue, blue sky. Doesn't answer. That doesn't matter. He must feel the same as her. Doesn't he?

* * *

"I want to go home", Misty says with tears in her eyes, trying to remove the pasta sauce from the face with the napkin. She feels embarrassed and naked and vulnerable (and tomboyish and inhuman.) She couldn't act like a girl, she only messes up, strings the reality to twisted dimensions even though she knows nothing will change. She's like this. She messes things up. Ash doesn't want her.

His brown eyes searches for her baby-blue but she eagerly looks at the table, with burning tears and blushing cheeks. Why doesn't he say anything? Is he laughing? Oh, Mew, why did she ask him for a date, why couldn't you turn back time and try again? This is totally ruined and she can't do anything about it.

"I'm sorry Ash." She isn't used to apologize, usually it's different but she isn't angry anymore, just sad. This isn't his fault. It's easier that way, when she can blame someone, but now she can't, only herself. Her stupid, stupid clumsiness. She hates it.

She hears a chair move back, scrapes on the floor and she looks up, notices that he has reached up from the chair and moves towards her. With hands on the table she looks up, tries to read his intentions but to no avail, you just never may to read this guy. He doesn't touch her, he doesn't, he just stands there and she doesn't know why but somehow it feels soothing; that he doesn't walk away and leaves her here with only her shame to keep her company. Maybe she has misread this guy. Just maybe, maybe.

Maybe.

"You don't have to apologize, Misty", he says with a calm, soft voice she doesn't recognize, with him there's all jokes and no real seriousness but perhaps there is a side he hides well, to pick up when he really needs it. Like now.

She smiles. Smiles through her angry tears.

"But I look awful", she murmurs, desperately hoping that he would disagree.

He does. But not in the way she has hoped. Maybe it doesn't work to fly with chapped wings after all.

"No, no", he exclaims, walking to the other side of the table again. "You only look like a pizza and-"

"Thanks Ash!" she grits through her tears and starts to cry again. Her flushing cheeks remind her who he is and who he always had been. She's stupid if she assumes something else. Ash is the best, best friend you could have, always there for you, always cares for you, but taking him to the altar is one hell of a challenge with many tears and disappointments on the way. And she's still not sure what he fells for her. How could he when he acts like this?

"Don't be angry now, Misty, I'm only toying with you and-"

"I don't want you to fool around with me, Ash", she snarls and throws the napkin in his face. "This is the most awkward date I've never attended and you act like you don't care. Don't you care about me? You act like this is nothing for you, like an originally meeting but it isn't. It just isn't."

She wonders if she should just leave the restaurant and him but one part of him still wants to give him a chance. Chance to prove something different, different rules and endings in this play.

"Come on, Misty, don't do this", he murmurs and starts to tear the napkin, small bits falling down at his lap. His eyes wander around, not looking at her and she isn't surprised, he never does that when he's nervous or stressed. Wait, nervous? Is he nervous? Then maybe, maybe-

Maybe?

"This is hard for me you know", he continues, crossing his arms. "Since I've knows you for so long and we've this 'best friend' relationship for so long and doing this, taking this farther, higher, I don't know what to do, how to treat you. I want to act cool, act like I normally do but you don't seem to want that anymore."

She signs, wiping away tears that have started to dry on her cheeks. "I don't want you to change. I never wanted that. But I want you to realize that I like you. I don't want you to avoid the truth. I'm still a girl after all and this is very embarrassing for me."

He smiles and gets his stupid comments out again. He will never learn. "Are you a girl? Really."

"Ash!"

"Sorry, sorry!"

She mutters for herself and knows that he laughs on the inside and finds this more hilarous than the soap operas that wander around the television. He's the guy to laugh when a girl is crying. Stupid bastard. "Sometimes I wonder why I'm even interested in you", she says, rolling with her eyes.

"I don't know."

There's a pause no one seems to be interested to fill. She doesn't know what to say anymore. But then Ash surprises her by reaching out a hand and dragging her up from the chair. She blushes. Arceus, she blushes even though he has treated her more badly than a rock. What's wrong with her?

She's in love with him. That's what wrong with her. And she can't seem to be displeased by it. Not at all.

"Let's leave this place. And go out."

She stares. The words "go out" don't fit if you try to describe Ash's intrestests. But she agrees – she likes to dance – and wraps her arm around his as he leaves the money on the table and walks out to the closest pub in Cerulian City.

He knows the city fairly well. She likes that. Thinks of that as a sign. That maybe he likes her after all. Deep inside. If you squint.

* * *

"So, what have you been up to, Dawn?", Kenny asks as he's ordering a coca-cola in the closest café in Oreburgh city. She thinks about the question for a while, wondering how she would lay up the answer, flicking with her pink skirt as she lets her mind wander. He nods at the glass filled with coca-cola, a gesture that wonders if she wants the same. She nods.

She can admit she's a little nervous. For him, contests have been everything. And telling him that she doesn't want to bet on them fully anymore isn't that alluring to tell him. But still, it's Kenny after all and he often understands, at least when it comes to her. He really is a great friend. Somewhat annoying but if you've travelled with Ash you know about true pain. Geez, that guy really has the ability to make her mind go fuzzy. He's a great friend though and she doesn't regret spending time with him.

"I'm trying for the eight badge run", she finally admits, as she pours up cola in her glass. "Not that I want to completely end my Contest-career, it's more like I want to try something else."

He laughs and lays his elbow on the table, while looking her straight in the eyes. He really has big eyes, which makes him look younger than he really is, a fact he loathes. When she traveled with Ash and Brock (and Pikachu) she thought that Kenny might be in love with her and after Ash participated in the league he told her that it was the case but understood that she didn't feel the same. And she doesn't. She can't find it when it comes to him, the flatter, the thin-winged butterflies. But she's happy that he'd understand that she can't give him what he wants. It makes things easier. Much easier.

"I knew it", he exclaims and clinking his glass with hers, a gesture that only makes her confused. "Come on, Dawn, I know you that well that when you understood that you're cute even though you don't brush your hair three hours a day that you would understand the happiness in training your Pokémon and gaining experience."

"Oh", she says, smiling slightly. "I thought you would be angry."

"For that? Come on. So, do you've a boyfriend yet?" he then asks and tilts his head in what he thinks a wondering gesture but that she counts as a 'tell-me-or-I-leave-you-here-with-the-bill'- gesture.

"No."

"No? Why?"

"I don't need a boyfriend to gain badges you know."

"But still!" He blushes a little and stops looking at her, focusing more on the drink. She can't help but to feel a little sorry for him. Feelings aren't easy. Just look at May. She's consumed by them and it takes over her life, her thoughts. Dawn really doesn't envy her. "Didn't you like Ash?"

She laughs. That's the most ridiculous thing she has heard today. "Ash? Come on, he's so into Misty. They love each other!"

"Oh. But Brock then? He seems like a nice fellow. And he cooks food!"

"I'm not that spoiled you know. And he's too old." As Kenny is busy spinning the straw around in her drink she orders a strawberry cake. She thinks she need that after the failure at the gym.

"Cyrus?"

She rolls her eyes. "You're very funny, Kenny."

"Of course DeeDee."

"Don't call me that."

"I thought you wanted a nickname."

"You have to come up with something better than that."

He signs and takes another sip. A brown strand of hair hangs in front of his face. "Professor Rowan?"

"Please."

"Barry?"

She becomes quiet, like she always is when someone mentions the blonde jester from Twinleaf Town. Not that she's that interested in him (and he definitely isn't intrestered in her), but he has an ability to mark a footprint in your face, you just can't forget him. He runs, he hurries, but he's still there.

Kenny finds her silence as a sign that she feels something for Barry. "Aha! Tell me about it. What have he done to you?"

"Nothing", she snaps, putting her spoon in the cream. "Sure, we've some contact but you know-"

"I don't know. Tell me."

"Listen I-"

But she gets interrupted by her phone, she lays down the spoon with a clink on the plate and clenches the phone between ear and shoulder, a habit she uses to much that's it goes per automatism.

It's May. A very happy May.

"Dawn, you've to hear this but I and Drew are so happy together! You see, he likes me and I like him and-"

May repeats, she stumbles on her words and Dawn's overall summary of the dialog only contents information about how 'cool', and 'hot' and 'wonderful' Drew is. She's happy for May thought since she wanted it to happen from the very start. Some people are born for each other. Like Ash and Misty. Like May and Drew. And Dawn and Barry don't really suit under that condition.

When Dawn hangs up Kenny looks at her with curious eyes. "Who was that?"

"Dialga", she jokes but becomes serious when she receives an angry scowl from him that reminds her of Paul (that jackass.) "No. It was May. You know the one, super beautiful, wonderful Coordinator in Hoenn that owns everything?"

He rolls with his eyes as he moves himself to a more comfortable position in the chair. "You sound like a fan girl."

"I am!" she exclaims. "Anyway, she's together with Drew. Drew Hayden. You know that guy, don't you?"

"Everybody knows about him. And I don't like him."

She gives him a look. This is interesting and since Kenny is such a noble and kind person you should listen to his complains. "Why?"

He shudders. "I don't know. It's just an impression. He seems cocky."

"He _is_ cocky. Come one. You're not the kind, silent type yourself."

"Thanks."

"I think we should be happy for her though", she says and digs in her cake, lifting the spoon towards her mouth only resulting in that she gets cream in her face.

"Didn't Joanna teach you how to eat properly?" he asks and she glares. "I'm just worried about her, Dawn. You know how dangerous it is being in love. It can end."

"I know. But we must understand that she's happy and wants to stay happy. She told me that her 'friend' Brendan also told her about the risks being with Drew. She doesn't need to hear it. Drew is fine."

"Drew is fine", he repeats, but not sounding too delighted. She chooses to let that slip though, as she removes the cream with the napkin.

And then three hours pass and she finds himself with big apple cheeks and a bright smile after the conversation with her childhood friend. He's wonderful. He really is.

"But Dawn", he says after he pays for the drinks and cake. "You really should ask Barry out."

* * *

Silence. It's always this silence. Since that happened. Words just don't come out. Nothing gets said. It's like it's over. But it can't be over. She doesn't want it to be over.

"He must come home", she hears a voice and she nods, since it's true. He must come home. Things can't remain like this. Not anymore.

"He must come home."

* * *

When Drew is gazing at the stars that night he wonders if he's just ignoring the obvious and if he's okay with that.

He doesn't know the answer.

* * *

A/N: It seems like all the people ends at cafés, doesn't it? Ah well. It's too late to do something about that. I hope you like this chapter even though nothing happens :P

I know the ending is a little confusing. But that's how it should be. You will understand it, eventually. And sorry about the kind of implying twinleafshipping, but I love that ship and... yeah


	11. It will be okay, wont it?

**It isn't me**

_11: It will be okay, won't it?_

May leans on the rail, gazing across the wide sea with the rushing waves with white foam, where a few boats pass by in a ropy valiancy, like this is a Sunday walk-in-a-park where you don't understand the meaning of the word "stress." Further up in the sky she notices swinging Wingulls that entertain with their exaggerated shrieks, the blue painting in the heaven slowly shifting to red as the sun moves down with a steadily movement. There is something calming about looking at the sea's torrents from a boat, where everything seems to move slower, like you have all the time in the world.

Which is a noticeable thing since the days in Rustboro seem to have come and gone faster than she has time to analyze the true content. Sometimes life is that way. You don't understand where to appreciate things most.

Sometimes she wonders if she's doing wrong. It doesn't feel like it but how can she know that she doesn't shove him over the edge. She doesn't want to, no, but sometimes _doesn't want _create disasters since you want too much. She doesn't want to scare him away, she doesn't want to be too intrusive but how can she know when she goes too far? Because _too far _for her doesn't have any boundaries. Not at all. They don't exist. And it's dangerous.

She feels whole when she's with him. He knows how to lay the puzzle so that the image is clear. She doesn't know how to do that. He's the only one how can, therefore he knows her and knows how to make her smile. Even when she tries to fish up the answer from the pond she can't seem to get the straight answer because he surprises her from time to time. He's a mystery and when you gaze into those green, green eyes you see that inside the green shell lies many mysteries he hasn't told anyone. And she likes to gaze into those green, green eyes. Even when she looks over the sea, over the waves, over the deep mysteries that lie deep under the surface, the only thing that she wants is those eyes, it's him.

It has been a game and no one of them wanted to enhance the fact that they liked each other. It only made the attraction rise, and now, when she doesn't have to hide it anymore, she can't get enough. Enough. He stands beside her on the boat, the wind playing with his hair, and still it doesn't feel enough. Because enough for her is impossible. It doesn't exist.

_And that's why she's scared. So scared. _

She loves him. She needs him. And no matter how many times she says it, she's still afraid that he won't understand the true content of it.

She's always afraid to walk over the edge. But she still walks without understanding where the line is.

He looks at the sea and he seems distant. That is unusual. Often he's always there, always present but she guesses that even he has periods when fantasies seem more enjoyable than the reality. She gulps and uses her every inch of brain power trying to figure out what to say, what to ask but she just doesn't know and she feels the sheet laying over both, the silence pounds in her head. Usually she doesn't mind silence but not like this, when it's obvious that she doesn't have anything to say.

She has told him everything, about her life, about her childhood, about her dreams and wishes – he has told her nothing. He murmurs and forces out some information that has the ability to be fruitless information that doesn't tell her anything. She feels naked, like he has painted dots of colors on the painting when it's supposed to be white. White.

He makes her happy but he also makes her confused. She doesn't know where she has him. Perhaps that isn't a problem but she makes it like one. Why does she worry about this? He's there and he _says _that he wants her. Why can't that be enough?

Why?

"So, May, are you ready for the contest?" he asks her and the question feels so forced and jagged that she feels the urge to burst into tears.

She doesn't answer, only grips harder to the rail, her brown fringe falls in front of her eyes.

_Love is like this. You smile. You cry. You can escape neither. _

"May?" He gives her a look and smiles a little, like he's trying to confirm that it's okay, everything is fine, she doesn't have to worry for the invisible spot on the painting. She weakly smiles back, repeating _he loves me, he loves me_ like a mantra inside her head. Because he does.

"Ready and ready," she murmurs and laughs a little. "I don't think I have trained enough during my visit in Rustboro."

He just rolls his eyes at this and she feels the wave running through her again, like everything is okay if he just jokes with her.

_It isn't. But she acts like it is. _

"Well, you've been rather obsessed by me since you came there."

"O-Obsessed?" she repeats, unsure if it is a joke or not. "You don't mean-"

"Don't worry about it. I like it," he grins and flicks his hair, looking like usual. Oh, how she likes that face, it's perfect.

It's like his previous thoughtfulness isn't there. It didn't happen. And she lets it be that way, since it's easier, easier.

"I'm starting to get nervous," she murmurs, letting go of the rail and moves towards one of the two plastic chairs across the area. "But I guess I don't need to tell you that."

His smile gets wider as he chooses to follow her. "You're always nervous so I guess no." Usually, there should be a following to this but it doesn't come. He remains silent as he slips down the chair, rubbing her arm with his knuckle.

_It's okay, isn't it? It has to be okay. _

Still, some part of her doubts that it is.

* * *

"I'm so _not _going to ask him out!" she snarls at the demon in the blue shirt as she walks down the hill, unsure of where to head next. "How can you suggest such a stupid thing?"

Dawn can almost feel that he smiles even though she doesn't see him and to her dismay she can't choose if his obsession of shipping Dawn and Barry together is good or bad. It's rather nice that his crush for her seems to have poured down the mountain but why must he replace it with this? And it feels worse, worse, that she becomes flustered by it. Wait. _Flustered? _That can't be true.

"Why do you run away?" he pants and swallows a laughter when he tries to keep track with her. "Doesn't that assume that you like him?"

"_No!_" she grits and stops; putting on her most evil glare (he doesn't seem that affected.) This is becoming rather ridiculous. She likes him, likes him very much but not when he does like this, playing with her emotions like a swing-set when he knows, yes, he knows that she hasn't even _kissed _a boy. "Can we stop talking about this?"

"No," he states firmly, while blinking with his right eye. "Because you're avoiding the truth. And I wonder why-"

"I'm not avoiding anything!" she denies, but her high pitched voice is a huge contradiction to her pick of words. She points her steps to the Pokémon Center that lies in the south, rather hidden between the high top buildings pointing at the nimbuses. It would be a good idea to rent a room in the center, since she doesn't find the idea of sleeping in the mines amusing.

As they walk side a side to each other, he talks and she doesn't listen to what he says, she tries to think about the matter "Barry." Does she like him? It doesn't sound likely. They barely talked and when they did it was always in a rush and she didn't get the time to really think about what she wanted to say to him. It can't be true. It would've been more logical if she felt something for Ash, since he was there, he cared and he didn't forget who she was, but feelings between him and her are dead. It doesn't exist. And she doesn't want it that way. He's happy with Misty, even though he has abnormal problem understanding this. And she doesn't like Barry like May likes Drew. No? _No_.

_But then what are these butterflies in her stomach when she thinks about him?_

Probably she's just hungry. Yes, she is. No, she doesn't like him.

"Are you even listening to me, Dawn?" Kenny asks, staring amusedly at her with those big, big eyes that are too innocent for his own good. "It has been _forever _since we talked and you act like you're in the clouds. Why?"

"I'm thinking," she muses and kicks away a rock that lies on the road. It falls down the hill, rolling into a small pond.

_About Barry? _she thinks he will say but to her interior surprise he doesn't. "About what?"

"Nothing you should care about. How about your Contests? How many ribbons do you have?"

"Too many," he mocks as they're walking through the automatic-doors to the center. The familiar white walls are as calming as they always are. Nurse Joy stands by the desk but she doesn't seem to notice when Dawn and Kenny enter the building. "But that doesn't matter. The only thing that matters right now lies _there,_" he continues, pointing at the green telephone in the right corner, and unluckily enough no one else has occupied it.

"Just where are you going with this?" She crosses her arms and wants to send out her Prinplup and Ice Beam his stupid grin but unfortunately that isn't a very smart thing to do in a Pokémon Center. Kenny grabs her pink scarf and drags her to the phone and she find herself struggling in vain because he will never give up when it comes to this. He's sturdy. There are flaws with this. Big flaws.

"I want you to sit down and call Barry," he explains matter-of-factly and presses her on the chair, putting the phone in her hands like it's too complicated for her to do this alone. "And I'm not going to accept 'nah' or' you're evil, Kenny' because I know that you want to do this."

"Do I?" She rolls her eyes and ignores that her cheeks are getting warm again. Arceus, this is so ridiculous. Why does she have to do this? She presses the numbers with shaking fingers and a pounding heart as Kenny plugs out the phone from the machine. He wants to hear this too?

_He really is a demon. _

* * *

It's cold. But the cold doesn't come from outside. It comes from the inside, inside her. Since the day she heard that it happened. That she can't avoid this. That it comes. That it eats.

It's, it's…

No. It feels better to ignore, to swallow the pain, bleach it. It doesn't disappear and she knows it as well as she know that she's only pushing away (not erasing) the pain. But it's hard to stop.

It's dark. The lights are gone and she finds herself staring at the blurry television, remote in hand, trying to entertain her numb, freezing cold fingers. She doesn't look, she never looks, she only tries to make the time run away since she hopes that it will decrease the pain. It won't. But she still wishes. Still fishes for dreams in the empty pond.

Ignoring. It's easy. Too easy. She has learned to life with it, to use if when everything lies on her shoulders, pressing her down. The problem is that you can't live with it, oh no, the pain (ignorance) comes back, back and then you lie there, motionless, senseless.

It doesn't matter that he's not here. That he has not been her in seven years. He still is a part of this and she can't ignore it, push it away, she can't.

She narrows her eyes at the screen, trying to find amusement in this current film drenched with weapons and exaggerated broken hearts. (She doesn't.)

He looks at the telephone that lies on the table, lonely, staring, paining. She doesn't have a choice anymore (if she has in the first place) and she picks up the phone, presses the numbers and waits for the voice that's so distant, like he's a ghost, long gone and lost.

But when she hears his voice everything falls back. And she smiles. Well, not particularly smiles because there is nothing to smile at in this situation, but it's something. Her mouth places. Since he's here.

Since he will be coming back.

* * *

N/A: Lame chapter. But it was necessary. And yes, the last bit is important even if it doesn't make sense (yet.) And I skipped Misty/Ash this time because I want to make it a good scene. It's the last with them. And in the next chapter I will mention the final. What? You have to wait and see. Thank you for reading :)


	12. Spring Ball

**It isn't me**

_Chapter 12: Spring Ball_

_(Sometimes everything is not enough)_

The world is filled with surprises. One day doesn't have to mean that everything will remain like they have. Changes in life are inevitable, you have to accept it, you have to put the fact in the equation if you want to get somewhere.

She doesn't.

May Maple doesn't; she's too naïve and has her head in the clouds to put the reality on her tongue. People often says that she's down-to-earth and understanding and maybe she is but she surely doesn't understand that you can see things from different views, that you don't have to be right, that even the obvious can become a lie.

She doesn't understand it.

She doesn't (want) to understand it. Never.

As usual before a contest she uses every inch of the day to train, to sharp her skills and try to find new angels in her show to please the judges and audience the most. Even though she has some habits by now – she has doing this for nearly eight years – she still knows that she can fail even in the appeal round. And since she's now together with Drew she wants to show him, _has _to show him that it doesn't matter, this comes first. But parts of her doubts. Doesn't know. She's never felt this distant for a contest before. It's there but still not. Drew is more. Drew takes over. And it scares her.

_He wants to make the ship sink and she lets him._

_No_, she thinks and curls her fingers to fists, throwing a glance at Beautifly that's hovering above her head, the sun emphasize the different color patterns on its wings. _I can't give up. Not now. It doesn't matter who he is and what I feel for him. It doesn't (does) matter._

She takes one step forward and feels her feet drown in the sand, that's extremely warmed up by the glowing sun. The shirt adheres on her skin and she corrects the collar, trying to remember the strategy she has worked on for this contest. She fails hard, she can't find it in the correct folder in her head. Restlessly she moves her fingers to her dry lips, pulling it down, thinking, concentrating. Or maybe not.

_He doesn't want her to cling on him like he's a stuffed animal._

"Beautifly, use Silver Wind," she commands and the butterfly only looks, mostly because it isn't supposed to use the move in the appeal round.

Even Beautifly makes a fool of her. She grits her teeth and slops down on the beach, stretching her legs, skin blossom red. Her hair is sweaty, her eyes are stinging. The sun glows like it hasn't done anything else. She likes this weather, she really does, it's so different compare to her home. Petalburg is warm but still wrapped in shadows, it's like a yearly spring. But this is summer. The beach is glowing like a stage, bright and clear and almost looks as inviting as a bed. She wants to throw herself in the warm sand, rolling around and stay there forever.

But she can't. Forever isn't here. Forever will never reach her.

Because the future is always present. The future isn't here but it lies close. You can't ignore it. She can't ignore it.

Sometimes it's easy, sometimes it's hard. Sometimes she doesn't think about it and sometimes she does. The future lies in the foréen land where no one has been – covered by fog – and the only one that knows what's hidden there is fate. But you can't read fate (it wouldn't have been fun that way either), you can only wait and see. Live in the present. Too bad it now and then feels impractical.

"Well, Beautifly," she whispers and raises a hand in the air, offering a place for the butterfly to land. "What do you think? You think Drew really loves me?"

What's wrong with her? He says that he likes her. Likes it's not love but he's too cocky and proud to admit that his feeling is more than friendship. She knows him, this is how he is. At least she thinks she knows him.

May meets her pokémon's eyes, those blue, blue understanding eyes and knows that it knows everything. Beautifly always knows everything, every ooze of thoughts is squeezed down to small particles it can fold in its mind. Often it's something she has grown to apprecirate – because she can't talk to Ash about her problems anymore – but right now it only reminds her about that she's too clingy and too in love to be healthy for her.

A sudden tune from her mobile interrupts her train of thoughts and makes it drive along without her controlling. She flicks up her mobile and holds in against her ear. What now? It couldn't be Drew, he never bothers to call her when he's in training and despite he talked to her for about an hour ago and in contrast of her he doesn't seem to mind being separated from her in more than one minute. She blushes for herself when she hears how stupid that sounded. With her still flustered cheeks and Beautifly's rolling eyes she stutters a "hello" in the phone.

"It's Brendan," Brendan greets happily in the phone, more enthusiastic than usual. If you put the noises of cars and chatting people and whatever the rest is in the formula it's rather logic to think he's in the city. She frowns a little bit and sits down in the sand, grains of sand touching her bare skin. Really, she doesn't have time for this.

"Hi. How it's going?"

"I don't know. What are you doing?"

Brendan is the definition of long and informative descriptions about his achievements when it's not about his badges. And yes, that was ironic.

"Training for the contest, duh. You know that there's one in Slateport in three days, it's on the news and in the newspaper."

"Whatever," he mutters in his usually I'm-not-gonna-admit-being-wrong-style. She smirks for herself.

She has to admit the first time she met Brendan he seemed too much like the cocky I-don't-care-type to be the friend she was looking for but if you break through his shell and see the one he is on the inside you know that he _is _a good friend and his attitude only reveals that he likes her. And she likes him. When she and Drew decided to walk different path to evolve as coordinators and Ash and Brock felt for Sinnoh it was like a starting over from the start, the beginning, where she had built nothing and even though she is rather independent (at least before Drew) she has to admit it's easier to get somewhere when you have a rival. Of course Brendan isn't a rival in that aspect since he finds contests dull and boring but he accepts her path and she his and while gaining more ribbons and he more badges it feels like they're doing this together. But ever since the day she got together with Drew everything has fell (again.) It's ironic and irritating.

She realizes that her mind has gone to another place when he continues to repeat her name with no rue. "May, please talk to me when I call you."

"Sorry. Thought about something. What did you say?"

"I offered one million dollars to you but when you didn't answer I lost interest and gave it to an old man behind me instead," he says seriously like this is as true as Drew's hair is green.

She rolls her eyes and pulls the phone closer. You know how hard it is to talk to someone over the phone when this someone stands in the middle of a enormous, systaltic city . Same with busses, sit on them and you don't hear a thing. "Stop joking and tell me what you want."

"Nothing. Good-bye."

"Brendan!"

"Alright. I want to tell you something. You heard about the Spring Ball."

Truth to be told she has but she threw it in the sea as soon as she heard it. Spring Ball? She can admit that she likes dressing herself in pretty dresses that enhances her feminine side and she has nothing against dancing (even though she isn't particularly good at that) but the Spring Ball is something completely else. It's a party that's held once every ten years and everyone that is in Hoenn gets to participate. All in all it means that almost every citizen in the land tends to attend there. She has never been there herself (she wasn't interested in balls when she was seven) and the only things she knows is from rumor and old articles, but it's a huge party decorated from scratch and the committee avenging this party starts planning three years before the actual party is held.

"Oh yeah. That. Do you know where the ball is?"

She can feel that he rolls his eyes and she grimaces to her Beautifly, who is too busy to locate flowers in the mainland to care about her pathetic problems. "Lilycove."

It slightly surprises her since Slateport would've been a more logical choice due to its central location. But then again, what does she know? "What about the ball?"

"_What about the ball?_" he repeats like this was the most stupid thing he ever heard. "It's the biggest occurrence in Hoenn this year!"

"I know that. But you're not even interested in balls."

"I'm not. But still. I have to go. You have to go."

She closes her eyes and believes that he is right. Spring Ball. The biggest. She feels stupid for not considered the idea before but Brendan's call makes her understand that she can't miss it. She can't. Not this.

"Have you asked your girlfriend?"

That's another code, you attend there with either your boy- or girlfriend. You don't have to be together, but almost everyone comes there and shows the world that it's you and me. You can go alone but that feels stupid. And her face transform from skin to burning flesh when she thinks about the opportunity to attend to the ball with Drew. Oh! That's too much.

"Yes. And since I so handsome she said yes," he says in his usual cocky manner. She chooses not to answer that one.

"I want to go to the Spring Ball," she murmurs dreamily and clenches harder to the mouthpiece, like she's afraid it's going to slip away from her fingers.

"Of course you want. You're a girl. They want to do silly stuff."

"I hope you don't treat your girlfriend like you treat me."

"No risk."

"Brendan, _please_."

She hears him taking steps, closing in to the main street if she reads the increasing noises right. "Haven't Drew asked you yet?"

That stung. "No."

"He should. If he's your boyfriend and you his girlfriend. He should."

_He should. _But he will do that. He's going to ask her. He has to.

They're together. They're in love. He _has _to.

* * *

Misty has waited for him. And somehow, deep inside, she knows that her wait is eternal. But it is okay. It is okay because he's Ash and she's Misty and somehow it's bonded to work. It is. Somehow.

* * *

One signal. Then two. And she can bet on her tongue that the intervals between each signal grow wider with each passing second. To Dawn's absolute dismay (and Kenny's amusement) her fingers shiver and sweat is rolling. Why does she act like this when it comes to the blond idiot named Barry? It doesn't make any sense. But she does. Oh, she does. Her blood is rushing and it feels like someone hugs her pit, like a hand gripping her gut. Before (when she traveled with Ash) it wasn't like this and she wonders what triggered the change. She surely doesn't think about him when he isn't present – when she's on her journey and train and try to reach the stars wobbling in the heaven he's not there. But this is ridiculous, she states to herself as more signals pass. Maybe it's just because Kenny is teasing her. Yes, it has to be that. She doesn't feel _anything_for Barry. Love isn't in her way and that's not sad, that's fact. Just look at Kenny. He's a great person and encourages her to reach to her goals and still she feels nothing for him. Why would Barry be any different? He – is someone – doesn't really qualify for this year's greatest boyfriend material.

"Please don't answer," she growls and she can feel Kenny's smile from behind her, which doesn't really increase her mood. "Stop teasing me, Kenny. I still don't want to do this."

"Of course you don't," he mocks and slips closer to her, still looking like this is better than winning the Grand Festival. Visibly he hasn't considered that Barry is too busy with burning calories to actually _answer_ her call.

P_lease Barry, for the love of Arceus, don't answer._

Well, she now understands that begging doesn't work when it comes to him. Later she hears a click in the phone and a too loud voice echoes in the mouthpiece. "Yeah?"

"Hi, Barry," she says with a high-pitched voice that is a huge contradiction for what she previously has said to Kenny. Oh, no. She doesn't care about him. No, she doesn't care about him.

How come repeating some things don't work?

"Who are you?" he asks with a wondering tone, like it could as well be Cyrus who had called. Not again. If she actually bothers to call him he could at least be kind enough to remember her. It's not like she's that anonymous, isn't it?

Maybe it is.

"It's Dawn. Please remember me."

"I joked, duh. I remember you. It's not like I have met you _once_?"

A brief flash appeared on the screen before his face becomes visible. To her pleasure (she will never admit that though) he looks like he always has, with the blond strands of hair in the same irregular hairstyle that really only fits on him. Maybe his eyes are a little smaller, less childish but she really couldn't tell it it is the case of if she's just imaging things. His skin is still pale, if a little tanned on the cheeks. He looks healthy. And rather cute.

No, she didn't said that.

"That's nice," she smiles. He only rolls his eyes, a manner he often seems to do when he talks to her. He doesn't have time for meaningless chit-chat and telling him that you really miss him is like swallowing rocks – it doesn't work.

"Why did you call me? I have to go out training. I don't have time for this. Oh I swear I'm gonna fine you for interrupting- Hey is that you, Kenny?" Barry stops looking at her and scans to the right, looking revealed when orange eyes meet black. Dawn frowns. There we go. He's that interested in me."How's it going?"

"Well, good. I don't really know."

"Why are you with her? Have you traveled together?"

Does he really have to sound like she's only in the way? She swallows, and wonders if he's going to make her cry again. No, it's stupid to cry. She cries too often. She must stop doing that. It is how Barry acts. Something else would've been strange. Yes, strange.

"No, I only met her.

"Sure you did," Barry mutters and rolls his eyes again. "Don't try to fool me, you're best friends and have traveled the whole world together and you've invited her to the Spring Ball?"

"Do you fine me if I object?"

"Maybe?" Barry moves closer to the screen and his blond hair hangs in front of his eyes like a curtain. He still looks at her and Kenny suspiciously, like he's certain that they're closer than they actually are. She can't help but to wonder why he even cares about that, he, the one that only cares about training, training, his pokémon, training, being obsessed by Paul and training. She leans closer and tries to get a good view of him but at soon as he glares back she turns her head away to hide her blushing cheeks. Does he have to be so cute?

"We're not together," Kenny states with an assuring smile, pointing with his index finger in the air. Barry only looks back, moving a hand through his blond ball of twine.

"Fine then." He then looks down at his clock on his wrist, his eyes growing bigger when he analyzes the time. "Oh! I don't have time to chat with you two. You have ten seconds to tell me why you'd call me, Dawn."

She corrects her scarf and throws it behind her back. "Well, I..."

"You're gonna ask him out, remember?" Kenny whispers in her ear, teasingly, too much amused for her likening. It doesn't really make her less red in the face either. Why didn't she refuse to do this? Barry must be the hardest person _ever _to have a casual relationship, since he can't even spend an hour in a café without growing inpatient and moody. But that's only the negative parts and no matter how stupid and cliché this sounds his good qualities overweight his bad. They do. They really do.

"What are you whispering about? Tell me now!" Barry orders with his load voice that makes her ears want to shrink and escape.

"Nothing," Kenny explains. "But there is something Dawn wants to tell you, isn't it?" he continues, smiling calmly, inviting, like he is on her side in this. She briefly smiles back, moving her head so her blue bangs dance. He's right. She has to try.

"What? She doesn't even know me? This doesn't make any sense-"

"You don't make any sense," she interrupts, tired of him being an emotionless bastard that treats her like he doesn't even know him. He does. He _does_. "Um, I wonder, where're you now?"

Rather good to know if she has to go out with him. If he's in Kanto it's rather hard to do that.

He tilts his head and gazes into her eyes and his extremely extraordinary eye-color never fails to amaze her. Does he wear lenses? She doesn't think he does. It doesn't sound like him.

"Veilstone. Why?"

"Um, I," she stutters, biting her lip. "Gah, I can't do this!"

"Of course you can," Kenny smiles and wraps an arm around her shoulders, a maneuver casing the blond to narrow his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest.

She gulps. "Barry, I…"

"Don't tease me, Dawn, tell me or a fine is waiting for you."

"Stop that. Do you want to go out with me?" she murmurs and hides her blushing cheeks in her hands, a gesture that's both ridiculous and stupid but she guesses she's still a little girl inside (and will always be.)

Barry's reaction is what you can guess, he doesn't look happy, only a bit surprised and glares suspiciously at her. It's the reaction you get, you know it, she knows it but still in her naïve heart she thought it would've been different.

Dreaming. Thinking. Changing.

You want the reality to be different from that it really is. Always.

She moves the phone, prepared to hung up because she doesn't want to hear his reply, but Kenny stops her, still smiling like this is some kind of circus. She glares back.

"Okay," Barry says, removing dirt from his fingers. "But tell me, is this Kenny's idea?"

His answer always makes her laugh. He isn't as blunt as she has though. "Yes."

Kenny frowns. She smiles. Barry snorts.

"Kenny, that doesn't make any sense. But fine. I'm going out with you. I can fly with my Staraptor to you tomorrow? One a clock? And don't be late! Bye!" He then hangs up before she doesn't get to answer.

Her smile gets wider. Barry. Barry is… Barry. He will never change.

* * *

A/N: Finally an update! I hope you haven't given up this story because I will write it to the end (it only takes five years.) Yes, the Spring Ball is important so don't forget it! It's there everything will end. But how? Buaha, I will not tell you :P Thank you for reading and if something confuses you please tell me :D

I don't own pokémon. I just love writing about the characters.


	13. AN

AN: I'm sorry for the lack of updates with this one but I'm not completely content with it and think it needs to be rewritten. I'm going to do that and then continue. I'm so sorry but my inspiration with this is dead. Sorry :(


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